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LIBRARY 

OF  THE 

University  of  California. 


Class 


OLD  SPANISH  MASTERS 


•  •  •  • ,  •  •,? •    • 


TIIK   COXCEPTION    OF  THE   VIRGIN.     I!V   MURILLO. 

PRADO   Mi;SEUAI,    MADKIU. 


cu 


Copyright,  1901,  1902,  1903,  1904, 
1905,  1906,  and  1907,  by 

THE  CENTURY  CO. 


Published  October,  k^j 


THE  DE  VINNE  PRESS 


CONTENTS 


rjuw 


A  Note  on  Spanish  Painting 3 

CHAPTER  I 

Early  Native  Art  and  Foreign  Influence 

the  period  of  ferdinand  and  isabella  (1492-15 16)    ...  23 

I  School  of  Castile 24 

II  School  of  Andalusia 28 

III  School  of  Valencia 29 

CHAPTER  II 
Beginnings  of  Italian  Influence 

the  PERIOD  OF  CHARLES  I  (1516-1556) 33 

I  School  of  Castile 37 

II  School  of  Andalusia 39 

III  School  of  Valencia 41 

CHAPTER  III 

The  Development  of  Italian  Influence 

I  Period  of  Philip  II  (l 556-1 598) 45 

II  Luis  Morales 47 

III  Other  Painters  of  the  School  of  Castile 53 

IV  Painters  of  the  School  of  Andalusia 57 

V  School  of  Valencia 59 

CHAPTER  IV 

Conclusion  of  Italian  Influence 

I  Period  of  Philip  III  (1598-162 1 ) 63 

II  El  Greco  (Domenico  Theotocopuli) 66 


225832 


VI  CONTENTS 

CHAPTER  V 


PACE 


Culmination  of  Native  Art  in  the  Seventeenth  Century 

period  of  philip  iv  (162 1-1665) 77 

I  Lesser  Painters  of  the  School  of  Castile 79 

II  Velasquez 81 

CHAPTER  VI 

The  Seventeenth-Century  School  of  Valencia 

I  Introduction 107 

II    Ribera  (Lo  Spagnoletto) log 

CHAPTER  VII 

The  Seventeenth-Century  School  of  Andalusia 

I  Introduction 117 

II  Francisco  de  Zurbaran 120 

HI  Alonso  Cano x.  125 

CHAPTER  VIII 

The  Great  Period  of  the  Seventeenth-Century  School  of 

Andalusia  (continued) 133 

CHAPTER  IX 

Decline  of  Native  Painting 
charles  ii  ( 1 665-1 700) 155 

CHAPTER  X 
The  Bourbon  Dynasty 

FRANCISCO  GOYA l6l 


INDEX  OF  ILLUSTRATIONS 


MuRiLLO,  The  Conception  of  the  Virgin     .    .  .     Frontispiece 

Prado  Maseom,  Madrid 

PAaMO  MOS 

MuRiLLO,  The  Prodigal  Son  Feasting 9 

Prado  Mnienm,  Madrid 

El  Greco  (Domenico  Theotocopuli),  Portrait  of  Himself    .       i6 

Seville  Maieam 

Velasquez,  Portrait  of  King  Philip  IV  as  a  Sportsman   .    .      i8 

Prado  MDienm,  Madrid 

Velasquez,  Don  Baltasar  Carlos  (Detail) 34 

Madrid  Moteom 

Morales,  Madonna  and  Child 47 

Botch  Collection,  Madrid 

Morales,  Madonna  of  the  Little  Bird 50 

Collection  of  the  Marqaes  de  Remisa,  Madrid 

El  Greco,  The  Stripping  of  Christ 66 

The  Cathedral,  Toledo 

El  Greco,  Coronation  of  the  Virgin 71 

Collection  of  Sefior  Pablo  Botch,  Madrid 

El  Greco,  St.  Martin  and  Mendicant 72 

Church  of  San  Jo%i,  Toledo 

El  Greco  (Domenico  Theotocopuli),  The  Daughter  of  El  Greco  74 

CoUectioD  of  Sir  John  Stirling- Maxwell,  Bart.,  M.  P.,  London 

»ii 


Vin  INDEX    OF    ILLUSTRATIONS 

FAaNC  PACE 

Velasquez,  Don  Olivarez 83 

Prado  Museum,  Madrid 

Velasquez,  "The  Spinners" 86 

Prado  Museum,  Madrid 

Velasquez,  The  Surrender  of  Breda  (The  Lances)  ....  91 

Prado  Museum,  Madrid 

Velasquez,  The  Menippus 94 

Prado  Museum,  Madrid 

Velasquez,  The  Head  of  a  Young  Man 97 

Collection  of  Duke  of  Wellington,  Apsley  House,  London 

Velasquez,  Pope  Innocent  X 100 

Doria  Palace,  Rome 

Ribera,  The  Assumption  OF  Mary  Magdalene 112 

Real  Academia  de  Bellas  Artes,  Madrid 

ZuRBARAN,  St.  Elizabeth ...     120 

Smith-Barry  Collection,  London 

ZuRBARAN,  St.  Catharine  in  Prayer 122 

Collection  of  the  Infanta 

Cano,  Madonna  and  Child 126 

Cathedral  of  Seville 

Cano,  St.  Agnes 129 

Berlin  Museum 

MuRiLLO,  The  Holy  Family  of  the  Little  Bird 134 

Prado  Museum,  Madrid 

MuRiLLo,  The  Adoration  of  the  Shepherds 137 

Seville  Museum 

Murillo,  a  Spanish  Flower-Girl I39 

Dulwich  College,  England 

Murillo,  St.  Anna  Teaching  the  Virgin 142 

Prado  Museum,  Madrid 


INDEX   OF    ILLUSTRATIONS  IX 

rAcno  rAC« 

MuRiLLO,  St.  Joseph  and  Child i44 

Seville  Maieain 

MuRiLLO,  St.  John  THE  Baptist 148 

Prado  Maieam,  Madrid 

Goya,  The  Washerwomen 165 

Madrid  Mnscnm 

Goya,  In  the  Balcony 168 

Collection  of  the  Duke  of  Marchena,  Paris 

Goya,  DoRa  Isabel  Corbo  de  Porcel 172 

National  Gallerjr,  London 


OLD  SPANISH  MASTERS 


J '•••:/ 


OLD  SPANISH  MASTERS 


A  NOTE  ON    SPANISH  PAINTING 


IT  is  not  until  the  end  of  the  fifteenth  century  that  the  story  of 
Spanish  painting  begins  to  emerge  into  clearness.  Starting  at 
the  moment  when  Italian  art  was  entering  upon  the  supreme 
achievements  of  the  High  Renaissance,  it  survived  the  latter's  decay, 
reached  its  own  independent  climax  in  the  seventeenth  century,  and 
received  a  supplementary  chapter  at  the  end  of  the  eighteenth. 

As  a  connected  narrative  it  may  be  said  to  have  begun  with  the 
birth  of  a  United  Spain  in  1492.  Paintings  of  an  earlier  time,  how- 
ever, are  still  extant,  but  little  record  of  their  painters  has  been  pre- 
served. In  the  Escorial,  for  example,  and  the  National  Library  and 
Academy  of  History  is  a  collection  of  illustrated  manuscripts,  the 
miniatures  in  which  are  assumed  to  date  from  the  first  century  after 
the  Moorish  Conquest  (1087-92).  To  the  same  period  probably 
belong  some  mural  paintings,  executed  in  dry  fresco;  figures  of 
saints  in  the  little  Church  of  El  Christo  de  la  Luz  at  Toledo,  and 
scenes  from  the  Passion  on  the  vaulted  ceiling  of  the  Chapel  of 
Saint  Catherine  in  San  Isidoro  of  Leon.  Again,  with  the  introduc- 
tion of  the  architecture  of  Northern  France,  there  came  in  a  style 
of  drawing  evolved  from  it,  traces  of  which  are  to  be  found  on  the 
monuments  of  the  old  cathedral  of  Salamanca.  Of  the  three  mural 
paintings  of  the  Virgin  in  Seville,  those  of  Nuestra  Sefiora  de  Roca- 

3 


.«  •  • .  •  •,;  •  •  ••  •    •  .'• 


OLD  SPANISH   MASTERS 


mador  at  San  Lorenzo  and  of  Nuestra  Senora  del  Corral  in  San  Ilde- 
fonso  probably  date  from  the  fourteenth  century.  The  third,  in  Ca- 
pilla  de  la  Antigua  in  the  cathedral  was  painted  over  in  the  sixteenth 
century.  Moreover  in  the  fourteenth  century  two  Tuscan  painters 
of  the  school  of  Giotto,  Stamina  and  Dello,  are  known  to  have 
worked  at  the  court  of  Juan  I  and  Juan  II  of  Castile;  and  while  no 
authenticated  specimens  of  their  work  survive,  the  vault  paintings  of 
San  Bias  in  the  cloisters  of  Toledo  are  undoubtedly  Giottesque.  Fur- 
ther Italian  influence  is  discoverable  in  the  "Lands  of  the  Limousin 
Dialect" :  Valencia,  Catalonia,  and  Majorca.  In  this  district,  from 
the  fifteenth  century  a  style  prevailed  which  is  akin  to  that  of  the 
early  Tuscan  and  old  Cologne  schools.  Its  characteristics  are  light 
tempera  coloring,  animated  and  graceful  movement,  flowing 
drapery,  and  fine  and  even  beautiful  forms.  The  retablos  on  which 
these  paintings  are  found  may  be  recognized  by  their  flat  gilded 
frames,  with  Gothic  tracery  and  ornamentation. 

The  influence,  however,  which  has  left  most  trace  upon  the 
earlier  period  is  that  of  the  Flemish  school.  Many  of  these  pictures 
were  introduced  by  traders ;  others  painted  in  Flanders  to  the  order 
of  Spanish  patrons,  while  some  were  the  work  of  Flemish  painters 
visiting  or  residing  in  Spain.  Jan  van  Eyck,  for  example,  in  1428, 
despatched  by  the  Duke  of  Burgundy  on  a  special  mission  to  Por- 
tugal, paid  a  visit  to  Madrid,  and  it  has  been  suggested  that  the 
"Fountain  of  Life,"  in  the  Prado,  may  be  a  work  of  his  hand.  The 
most  remarkable  example  of  the  Flemish  influence  is  a  retablo 
painted  by  Luis  de  Dalman  for  the  chapel  in  the  City  Hall  of  Barce- 
lona. Produced  about  ten  years  after  the  famous  altarpiece  of  the 
Van  Eycks  at  Ghent,  it  exhibits  the  oil  technique,  the  forms,  and 
even  the  singing  angels  of  that  masterpiece,  but  translated  into 
Catalonian  types. 

"Those  who  pass  from  village  to  village,"  writes  Carl  Justi,  "in 
almost  any  Spanish  province  will  receive  the  impression  that  in  the 
fifteenth  century  every  church  possessed  one  or  more  painted  reta- 
blos, so  great  is  the  number  that  have  escaped  (mostly  in  the  poorer 
places)  the  'churrigueresque'  mania  for  restoration.     Most  of  these 


A  NOTE  ON  SPANISH  PAINTING  5 

works  date  from  the  second  half  of  the  century  and  show  the  general 
characteristics  of  the  early  Flemish  school.  The  figures  are  lean,  the 
outlines  sharp,  the  colors  rich  and  aided  by  gold.  Local  types  and 
customs  and  peculiarities  of  dress  and  ornamentation  are  frequently 
used.  The  legends  are  represented  with  drastic  vigor,  and  the 
painter  is  often  quite  unique  in  his  way  of  relating  Bible  events.  In 
delicacy  of  workmanship  and  charm  of  color  they  are,  however,  in- 
ferior to  the  Flemish  works  of  the  same  kind.  In  Navarre,  Aragon, 
and  Roussillon  a  French  element  is  noticeable;  in  Catalonia  we  see 
French,  German  and  Italian  influence  at  work  side  by  side;  in  Va- 
lencia and  the  Balearic  Isles  the  Italian  influence  is  predominant." 

In  1492  Ferdinand  and  Isabella  entered  Granada  in  triumph. 
With  the  loss  of  their  capital  the  power  of  the  Moors  was  fatally 
broken,  and  the  fair  province  of  Andalusia  was  added  to  the  king- 
dom already  formed  by  the  union  of  the  crowns  of  Aragon  and  Cas- 
tile. All  Spain  was  united  under  the  sway  of  the  Catholic  sovereigns. 
The  same  year  brought  to  Isabella  the  first  fruits  of  her  support  of 
Columbus.  A  New  World  had  been  discovered,  the  wealth  from 
which  was  shortly  to  make  Spain  the  most  powerful  country  in 
Europe.  Meanwhile  forces  elsewhere  were  in  fermentation,  that, 
stimulated  by  the  discovery  of  the  New  World,  were  to  change  the 
order  of  the  Old.  But  in  the  benefit  of  these  Spain  was  to  have  no 
share.  Her  sovereigns,  clinging  to  the  title  of  Catholic,  and  arro- 
gant from  excess  of  wealth,  were  to  become  champions  of  the  old 
order,  and  in  the  passing  of  the  latter  their  own  power  was  to  be 
swept  away.  Indeed,  the  rapid  growth  of  Spain  in  the  sixteenth  cen- 
tury, and  her  equally  rapid  decay  in  the  following  one,  are  among  the 
most  significant  facts  of  history,  and  not  without  their  bearing  on 
Spanish  painting. 

The  latter  from  the  beginning  took  on  a  character  that,  with  only 
occasional  impairment,  it  maintained  to  the  end  of  the  eighteenth 
century.  The  determining  factor  was  the  deeply  religious  spirit,  in- 
herent in  the  Spaniard.  In  the  long  struggle  against  the  Moors  a 
race  of  iron  warriors  had  been  bred,  soldiers  of  the  Cross,  inured  to 


6  OLD    SPANISH    MASTERS 

privations  and  pain,  upheld  by  the  holiness  of  their  cause.  Even  to 
this  day  a  marked  gravity  of  demeanor  distinguishes  a  Spanish 
gentleman.  In  the  fifteenth  century  he  v^as  still  a  champion  of  the 
Truth;  at  his  best,  imbued  with  religious  chivalry;  at  his  worst,  a 
fanatic  and  cruel.  The  characteristics,  then,  of  Spanish  painting  are 
its  preoccupation  with  religious  subjects  and  its  gravity  even  in 
portraiture;  and,  corresponding  with  this  feeling,  a  preponderance 
of  dark  and  somber  coloring. 


II 

The  consistency  with  which  these  characteristics  were  main- 
tained is  due  to  the  nature  of  the  patronage.  Its  main  sources  were 
the  church  and  monastic  orders,  and  in  Castile,  the  heart  of  the 
monarchy,  the  king.  PoHtical  power  being  centered  in  the  one  and 
ecclesiastical  authority  concentrated  in  the  other,  there  was  not  in 
Spain  that  variety  of  patronage  which  in  Italy  was  one  of  the  results 
of  her  civilization;  no  splendid  rivalry  of  enlightened  despots,  or 
proud  self-expression  of  free  communes.  Moreover,  in  Italy,  these 
secular  influences,  perpetually  in  conflict  with  the  temporal  power 
of  the  papacy,  encouraged  the  spread  of  humanistic  literature  and 
with  it  a  fondness  for  legends  of  Greek  mythology  and  a  devotion  to 
the  beauties  of  Greek  sculpture.  Pagan  as  well  as  Christian  sub- 
jects were  demanded ;  the  nude  assumed  an  importance  in  art,  and 
ideals  of  beauty  found  one  of  their  chief  expressions  in  types  of 
feminine  charm.  On  the  other  hand  in  Spain  the  pagan  subject 
fotmd  no  foothold,  except  in  occasional  works  by  foreigners;  the 
nude  was  actually  forbidden,  and  the  portraiture  of  women,  or  even 
the  painting  of  women  as  women,  apart  from  their  necessary  con- 
nection with  some  sacred  story,  discouraged.  In  actual  life  a 
woman  of  good  position  was  secluded  from  the  public  gaze  with 
a  jealousy  that  had  its  counterpart,  if  not  its  origin,  in  the  harems 
of  the  Moors ;  and,  when  she  attended  church  or  took  the  air,  went 
veiled.  For  ceremonies  within  doors  a  costume  had  been  devised 
which  displayed  only  her  face  and  neck  and  hands,  preserved  her 
feet  invisible,  and,  by  means  of  the  huge  farthingale,  or  "lady-pro- 
tector" (guarda  infanta),  kept  the  bystander  at  a  distance  from  her 

7 


8  OLD    SPANISH    MASTERS 

person.  It  was  with  these  disfigurements  of  form  that  the  painter 
had  to  contend,  on  the  rare  occasions  in  which  the  fact  that  he  was  a 
man  was  overlooked  in  the  desire  to  use  him  as  an  artist.  When  we 
remember  how  the  Spanish  lady  following  the  oriental  custom, 
daubed  herself  with  chalk  and  vermilion,  reddening  even  the  tips  of 
her  shoulders  and  her  hands,  we  may  believe  that  the  artist  joined 
in  the  husband's  unwillingness  that  her  already  painted  charms 
should  be  exposed  on  canvas.  He  turned  with  more  relish  to  the 
simple  sunburnt  faces  and  lithe  free  forms  of  flower-girls  and  peas- 
ants, and  introduced  them  as  Madonna  or  Saint  into  his  sacred 
pictures. 

For  another  characteristic  of  Spanish  art  is  its  unwavering 
naturalism.  Every  school  of  art  has  been  developed  at  its  start 
upon  nature-imitation,  but  other  schools,  having  gained  a  mastery 
over  natural  forms,  proceeded  to  idealize  them.  Spanish  artists, 
however,  even  Murillo,  painter  of  the  "Conception,"  clung,  like  the 
Dutch  of  the  seventeenth  century,  to  the  actual  types  of  nature.  In 
the  case  of  the  Dutch  it  was  due  to  their  single-hearted  preoccupa- 
tion with  themselves  and  their  own  life;  in  that  of  the  Spanish  to 
their  corresponding  devotion  to  religion  as  a  natural  part  of  their 
actual  lives. 


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Ill 

It  is  impossible  to  form  a  just  estimate  of  the  spirit  of  Spanish 
art,  unless  one  realizes  how  intimately  and  naturally  religion  entered 
into  the  lives  of  the  highest  and  the  lowliest.  As  in  Italy,  it  did  not 
necessarily  exclude  a  laxity  of  morals.  It  is  one  of  the  anomalies 
of  Spanish  civilization,  that  a  king,  so  severely  Catholic  as  Philip  II, 
could  reconcile  his  orthodoxy  with  the  keeping  of  mistresses,  and 
even  go  to  the  length  of  permitting  Titian  to  introduce  him  into  a 
picture,  gazing  at  the  unveiled  charms  of  one  of  them.  And  a  simi- 
lar taste  for  wandering  beyond  the  restrictions  of  marital  fidelity 
distinguished  all  the  kings  of  the  Hapsburg  line,  and  was  not  un- 
known among  the  great  nobles.  On  the  other  hand,  the  church  in 
Spain  was  free  from  such  reproaches.  While  Alexander  Borgia, 
a  Spaniard  by  birth,  but  Italianized  by  education,  was  polluting  the 
Vatican  with  sensuality,  and  the  elegant  epicurean,  Leo  X,  ban- 
queted gaily  with  pagan  wits,  or  hunted  and  hawked  in  the  woods 
around  Viterbo,  the  miter  of  Toledo  was  worn  by  the  Franciscan 
Ximenes,  once  a  hermit  in  the  caves  of  the  rocks,  who  had  not  doffed 
the  hair  shirt  when  he  assumed  the  archiepiscopal  vestments.  And 
this  is  an  example  characteristic  of  the  dignitaries  of  the  church,  as 
a  body.  They  were  at  once  thorough-going  and  consistent.  The 
proof  they  gave  of  this,  so  far  as  it  concerns  art,  was  twofold.  On 
the  one  hand  they  exercised  a  restraint  over  the  painter,  and  on  the 
other  secured  his  popularity  by  insisting  that  his  art  should  be  in- 
telligible to  the  people. 

In  a  great  degree,  at  any  rate,  the  sobriety  and  purity  of  imag- 
ination which  distinguished  the  Spanish  painters  is  to  be  attributed 


lO  OLD  SPANISH  MASTERS 

to  the  control  exercised  by  the  Inquisition.  Palomino  quotes  a  de- 
cree of  that  tribunal,  forbidding  the  production  or  exhibition  of  im- 
modest paintings  and  sculpture,  on  pain  of  excommunication,  a  fine 
of  fifteen  hundred  ducats,  and  a  year's  exile.  The  Holy  Office  also 
appointed  inspectors  whose  duty  it  was  to  see  that  no  such  works 
were  exposed  to  view  in  churches  and  other  public  places.  Palo- 
mino himself  occupied  this  position  at  Madrid,  and  Pacheco,  the 
father-in-law  of  Velasquez,  a  painter  and  writer  on  art,  at  Seville. 
He  lays  down  in  his  writings  that  to  treat  a  sacred  subject  in  an 
indecorous  manner  was  an  offense  that  merited  personal  punish- 
ment. He  relates  that  he  knew  a  painter  at  Cordoba  imprisoned  for 
introducing  into  a  picture  of  the  crucifixion  the  Blessed  Virgin  in  an 
embroidered  petticoat  and  farthingale,  and  Saint  John  in  trunk  hose, 
and  adds  that  the  penalty  was  a  "justly  deserved  chastisement." 
Pacheco,  who  is  supposed  to  have  received  his  data  from  his  friends 
in  the  Jesuit  College  at  Seville,  also  formulates  rules  for  depicting 
the  Madonna,  covering  the  position  of  the  figure,  and  the  color  of 
her  draperies  and  hair.  His  argument  against  immodest  altarpieces 
is  enforced  by  a  curious  anecdote.  He  received  it,  he  says,  from  a 
pious  bishop,  who  was  himself  the  hero  of  the  tale.  The  picture  was 
a  "Last  Judgment"  by  Martin  de  Vos  (a  Flemish,  not  a  native, 
painter,  it  is  to  be  noted)  that  once  hung  in  the  Church  of  the  Augus- 
tines  but  is  now  in  the  Seville  Museum.  It  is  a  composition  of  con- 
siderable power,  the  principal  figures  being  well  drawn  and  full  of 
interest  and  character.  But  the  gravity  of  the  whole  is  disturbed 
by  accessory  episodes  of  broad  caricature.  In  one  a  grotesque  devil 
with  a  blow  of  his  fork  and  vigorous  kicks  is  keeping  the  damned 
within  bounds ;  while  in  another  direction  is  a  group  of  nude  women, 
one  of  whom,  conspicuous  for  her  flowing  hair  and  abundant  form, 
is  being  dragged  off  by  a  demon.  It  was  on  this  figure,  "a  woman 
remarkable  for  her  beauty  and  the  disorder  of  her  person,"  says 
Pacheco,  "that  the  eye  of  the  friar  chanced  to  rest,  as  he  was  cele- 
brating mass.  The  poor  man  fell  into  a  condition  of  mental  dis- 
composure, such  as  he  had  never  known  before.  "Rather  than 
undergo  the  same  spiritual  conflict  a  second  time,"  he  explained 


A  NOTE  ON  SPANISH  PAINTING  II 

afterward  when  he  had  become  a  bishop  and  had  made  a  voyage  to 
America,  "I  would  face  a  hurricane  in  the  Gulf  of  Bermuda.  Even 
at  the  distance  of  many  years  I  cannot  think  of  that  picture  without 
dread." 

But  the  most  complete  code  of  rules,  governing  the  manner  of 
sacred  pictures,  is  one  by  Fray  Juan  del  Ayala,  a  doctor  and  profes- 
sor of  Salamanca.  It  was  not  published  until  1730,  but  probably 
brings  together  a  mass  of  formularies  that  custom  had  already  sanc- 
tioned. Written  in  Latin,  it  was  entitled:  "The  Christian  Painter 
Instructed:  or  considerations  of  errors  which  occasionally  are  ad- 
mitted into  the  painting  and  sculpturing  of  sacred  subjects."  It  is  a 
fine  specimen  of  pompous  and  prosy  trifling,  dealing  with  such  sub- 
jects as  the  proper  shape  of  the  Cross,  and  the  condemnation  of  those 
painters  who  represent  it  as  a  T  instead  of  in  the  Latin  form;  the 
number  of  the  angels,  whether  one  or  two  should  appear,  in  pictures 
of  the  resurrection  morning,  and,  as  the  Gospel  accounts  differ,  the 
advisability  of  following  both  alternately;  the  unnecessary  display 
of  the  figure,  especially  of  the  feet,  and  the  right  of  the  devil  to  his 
horns  and  tail. 

On  the  other  hand,  while  the  painter  was  subject  to  the  restraints 
of  orthodoxy,  he  was  regarded  as  enjoying  the  special  favor  of 
heaven.  Many  of  them,  like  Fra  Angelico,  were  filled  with  pious 
enthusiasm  and  believed  that  their  imagination  was  quickened  and 
their  hands  were  guided  by  heavenly  inspiration.  Thus  Luis  de 
Vargas  sought  to  purify  his  style  by  disciplining  his  body  with 
scourging  and  by  keeping  a  coffin  beside  his  bed,  in  which  he  would 
lay  himself  and  meditate  on  death.  Vincente  Joanes,  again,  was 
wont  to  prepare  himself  for  a  new  work  by  prayer  and  fasting  and 
by  partaking  of  the  Holy  Eucharist.  Of  him  is  recorded  one  of  the 
numerous  legends  that  represented  artists  as  being  supernaturally 
inspired.  In  this  case  the  Virgin  herself  had  appeared  to  a  certain 
Fra  Martin  Alberto,  of  the  Order  of  Jesus,  commanding  that  a  pic- 
ture of  herself  should  be  painted  by  Joanes,  and  giving  instructions 
as  to  the  dress.  On  another  occasion  she  honored  the  devout  painter 
Sanchez  Cotan  with  an  actual  sitting;  and  the  picture,  like  the  one 


12  OLD  SPANISH  MASTERS 

by  Joanes  and  numerous  others,  produced  under  similarly  super- 
natural circumstances,  became  an  object  of  special  veneration  and 
celebrated  for  the  miracles  which  it  wrought.  Sometimes  the  mi- 
raculous virtue  existed  in  the  picture  before  it  was  finished.  For 
Lope  de  Vega  relates  that,  while  a  certain  painter  was  engaged  in 
painting  Our  Lady  and  the  Holy  Child,  the  lofty  scaffold  on  which 
he  was  working  suddenly  gave  way  and  he  would  have  been  precip- 
itated to  the  floor,  had  not  the  Virgin  put  forth  from  the  picture 
her  one  finished  arm  and  held  him  suspended,  until  the  monks  could 
rescue  him  with  a  ladder.  The  painter  having  been  rescued,  the 
hand  was  withdrawn  into  the  picture,  "a  thing,"  says  the  pilgrim 
into  whose  mouth  Lope  puts  the  tale,  "worthy  of  wonder  and  tears, 
that  the  Virgin  should  leave  holding  her  son,  to  uphold  a  sinner 
who,  falling,  might  peradventure  have  been  damned."  Another 
Madonna  of  great  fame  in  Castile,  Nuestra  Seiiora  de  Nieva,  re- 
stored to  life  a  painter  who  had  fallen  from  a  scaffold  while  paint- 
ing the  dome  of  her  chapel.  But,  while  the  devout  artist  was  fre- 
quently rewarded,  punishment  would  fall  on  the  profane.  Thus  Our 
Lady  of  Monserrate  struck  blind  a  painter  who  was  about  to  re- 
touch with  color  her  celebrated  image  that  had  been  carved  by 
Saint  Luke  and  was  the  object  of  special  adoration  in  the  monastery 
of  Monserrate.  He  remained  blind  for  many  years,  until,  having 
duly  repented,  the  Virgin  was  pleased  to  restore  his  sight,  whilst  he 
was  chanting  "Profer  lumen  caecis"  with  the  monks. 

It  would  be  easy  to  regard  these  legends  as  impudent  frauds, 
concocted  to  enslave  the  conscience  of  the  faithful  for  the  pecuniary 
benefit  of  the  church  or  monastery.  But  such  a  view,  even  though 
some  ground  might  be  found  for  its  support,  would  not  help  the  stu- 
dent in  his  comprehension  of  the  art  of  Spain,  for  it  leaves  out  of 
account  the  conditions  that  made  the  growth  and  perpetuation  of 
such  legends  possible.  No  plant  will  take  root  and  flourish  except 
in  congenial  soil,  and  the  soil  in  which  these  legends  flourished  was 
the  religious  conscience  inherent  in  the  Spanish  people.  It  was  an 
actually  existing  vital  fact  of  race,  bred  of  a  mingling  of  Gothic  in- 
tensity with  the  passionate  ardor  of  the  South,  to  which,  at  most, 


A  NOTE  ON  SPANISH  PAINTING  I3 

the  church  could  but  point  the  moral,  while  the  artists  adorned  the 
tale.  Indeed,  we  shall  only  reach  the  heart  of  the  matter  if  we 
regard  the  union  of  religion  and  art  in  Spain  as  a  natural  and  in- 
evitable expression  of  race,  realized  alike  by  the  priesthood,  the 
artists,  and  the  people. 

This  fact  very  naturally  affected  the  character  of  religious 
painting  in  Spain,  giving  it  a  simplicity  and  ingenuousness  of  mo- 
tive. The  ecclesiastics,  while  desirous  on  the  one  hand  of  beautify- 
ing the  sacred  edifices  for  the  glory  of  God  and  in  pious  rivalry  of 
one  another,  never  lost  sight  of  the  other  purpose  of  instructing  the 
people.  As  Juan  de  Bartron,  a  writer  on  art  in  the  reign  of  Philip  IV, 
observes,  "For  the  learned  and  the  lettered  written  knowledge  may 
suffice;  but  for  the  ignorant,  what  master  is  like  painting?  They 
may  read  their  duty  in  a  picture,  although  they  cannot  search  for  it 
in  books."  The  painter,  therefore,  was  regarded  in  some  sense  as  a 
preacher,  one  whose  gift  could  bring  home  to  the  hearts  of  the 
people  the  dogmas  of  the  faith,  the  passion  of  the  Saviour,  and  the 
examples  of  the  martyrs  and  saints.  And,  so  far  from  chafing  under 
this  role,  many  of  the  painters,  as  we  have  noted,  gloried  in  the 
privilege  which  Providence  had  vouchsafed  to  them,  while  all,  even 
the  most  worldly-minded,  rejoiced  in  the  opportunities  of  craftsman- 
ship which  it  permitted.  For  the  requirements  of  the  church  that 
the  sacred  matter  should  be  presented  in  a  manner  thoroughly  intel- 
ligible to  the  people,  enabled  them  to  indulge  their  own  inclination 
toward  naturalism. 


IV 

This  naturalistic  tendency,  it  should  be  remembered,  was  not 
confined  to  Spanish  art.  It  existed  in  Italy  at  this  period,  and  was 
appearing  in  Holland.  In  the  latter  country  it  was  the  continuation 
of  the  early  Flemish  preoccupation  with  the  real  appearances  of 
form  that  distinguished  Jan  van  Eyck  and  Memlinc,  and  made  its 
influence  felt  in  Germany  in  the  persons  of  Diirer  and  Holbein  the 
Younger.  It  represented  a  characteristically  northern  devotion  to 
the  actual  and  true,  in  contrast  to  the  racial  genius  of  the  Italian, 
which,  expressing  all  forms  of  intellectual  activity  in  terms  of 
beauty,  often  deviated  from  the  truth  and  idealized  the  appearances 
of  nature.  This  idealizing  ran  its  course  in  Italy,  reaching  in  the 
High  Renaissance  an  elevation  of  line  and  color  beyond  which,  in 
pursuance  of  the  principles  involved,  no  further  ascent  was  possible. 
But  art,  like  life,  moves  on  continually.  In  Italy,  therefore,  its  only 
course  was  downward.  The  mannerists  tried  to  stem  the  decline,  by 
imitating  the  manner  of  the  giants  without  possessing  their  power ; 
and  their  failure  was  supplemented  by  the  equally  vain  efforts  of  the 
so-called  eclectics,  who,  under  the  leadership  of  the  five  Carracci, 
proposed  as  a  panacea  to  combine  Michelangelo's  line  with  Titian's 
color,  and  tincture  the  mixture  with  Correggio's  light  and  shade 
and  Raphael's  grace  of  expression.  In  opposition  to  these  grew  up 
in  Naples  a  school  led  by  Caravaggio  which  was  at  least  sound  in 
purpose,  since  it  went  back  to  nature  for  suggestion,  but  developed 
that  symptom  of  decadence— a  fondness  for  extravagance.  For  its 
models  it  chose,  the  more  desperate  class  of  the  Neapolitan  populace, 

14 


A  NOTE  ON  SPANISH  PAINTING  I5 

the  robbers  and  brawlers ;  pushed  dramatic  vigor  to  a  melodramatic 
extreme,  and  sacrificed  the  sobriety  of  truth  in  favor  of  picturesque- 
ness.  Yet  the  work  of  the  Neapolitan  naturalists,  despite  its  fre- 
quent coarseness  and  exaggeration  and  its  violent  opposition  of 
lights  and  shadows,  represented  something  vital,  for  at  least  it  was 
true  to  its  own  times,  a  characteristic  expression  of  the  storm  and 
stress  of  the  age. 

In  the  above  paragraph  we  have  anticipated  the  course  of  events, 
for  the  naturalists  of  Naples  did  not  g^ow  to  prominence  until  the 
last  quarter  of  the  sixteenth  century,  a  hundred  years  after  the  date 
we  have  selected  for  the  beginning  of  the  history  of  Spanish  art 
painting.  During  these  years  the  Spanish  love  of  naturalism  was 
due  to  other  causes ;  partly,  no  doubt,  to  the  influence  already  men- 
tioned that  was  exerted  by  the  introduction  of  the  Flemish  pictures, 
but  chiefly  to  the  primitive  instinct  for  imitation  of  nature  that  dis- 
tinguishes the  beginnings  of  all  schools  of  painting.  The  point  of 
peculiar  significance  is  that  the  Spanish  school  continued  to  be  faith- 
ful to  this  instinct,  notwithstanding  that  for  a  time  the  painters,  in 
imitating  the  Italians,  became  mannered.  It  began  by  being  nat- 
uralistic, later  found  its  naturalism  confirmed  by  the  example  of  the 
Neapolitans,  and  naturalistic  to  the  end  it  remained. 

The  reason  for  this  may  to  some  extent  be  due  to  that  national 
trait,  which  still  appears  to  be  the  characteristic  of  the  Spaniard, 
that  makes  him  not  only  indifferent  to,  but  haughtily  intolerant  of, 
outside  influences.  Thus  the  painter  Theotocopuli,  of  Greek  family, 
born  in  Venice  and  possibly  a  pupil  of  Titian,  so  thoroughly  identi- 
fied himself  with  the  amour-propre  of  his  adopted  country,  that  when 
he  found  his  work  was  thought  to  resemble  the  great  Venetians,  he 
altered  his  style,  giving  it  a  dryness  of  color  and  harshness  of  line 
that  lost  him  the  patronage  of  Philip  II.  But  a  more  signal  instance 
of  this  trait  of  independence  is  seen  in  Velasquez.  In  the  royal  gal- 
leries were  fine  examples  of  Titian  and  other  Venetian  masters ;  but 
neither  these  nor  the  two  visits  that  he  paid  to  Venice  could  stir 
Velasquez  from  his  path  of  naturalism.  They  did  suggest  to  him, 
as  we  shall  note  later,  some  lessons  useful  to  himself,  yet  he  was  as 


l6  OLD  SPANISH  MASTERS 

blind  to  their  allurement,  as  he  had  been  to  the  powerful  influence 
of  Rubens. 

But  another  reason  can  be  traced  to  the  church's  encouragement 
of  pictures  that  made  a  simple  and  direct  appeal  to  the  knowledge 
and  sympathy  of  the  people.  The  same  feeling  that  impelled  Diirer 
to  incorporate  in  his  woodcuts  of  the  life  of  the  Virgin  the  familiar 
surroundings  of  the  German  workshop  and  cottage  of  the  period, 
actuated  the  Spanish  artist  in  his  presentment  of  the  sacred  subject. 
He  brought  it  down  as  closely  as  possible  into  relation  with  the  daily 
habit  and  experience  of  the  people.  Did  he  paint  a  Holy  Family? 
It  represents  an  incident  to  be  found  in  hundreds  of  happy  homes. 
Or  the  ecstatic  vision  of  some  saint?  The  radiant  air  becomes  filled 
with  the  forms  of  healthy  human  babes.  Or  if  it  be  the  anguish  of 
some  martyr,  the  faithful  shall  be  made  to  realize  the  poignancy  by 
the  sight  of  blood,  the  gaping  wound,  or  mutilated  limb.  He  shall 
be  roused  to  emotion  by  a  forcible  appeal  to  his  own  experience  of 
pain. 

This  naturalism  in  the  service  of  religion  was  carried  so  far  in 
Spain,  that  even  in  sculpture  the  resemblance  to  life  was  increased 
by  color,  and  by  the  still  more  barbarous  device  of  dressing  up  the 
statue  in  clothes.  The  sculptor  in  such  cases  was  concerned  only 
with  the  head  and  hands,  and  worked  as  often  in  wood  as  in  the 
more  durable  and  difficult  medium  of  marble.  Indeed,  many  of  the 
most  famous  statues  celebrated  far  and  near  for  their  miraculous 
powers,  and  shown  only  on  great  occasions  of  festival  or  penance, 
were  mere  billets  of  wood  with  attachments  of  modeled  heads  and 
hands.  This  use  of  color  on  statues  was  entirely  dififerent  from  that 
employed  by  the  Greeks,  who,  it  has  been  discovered  of  late  years, 
used  color  freely.  But  their  intention  was  to  increase  the  decorative 
effect  and  their  use  of  color  was  conventional,  whereas  the  natural- 
istic tendency  of  the  Spaniards,  when  carried  to  extreme,  caused 
the  dignity  of  sculpture  to  evaporate  into  the  semblance  of  a  doll. 


EL  GRECO  (DOMENICO  THEOTOCOPUKI).     UY  HIMSELF. 

lKVIU.a  HtMt'M. 


.    •    ■*  *  p '  • 


One  other  fact  of  Spanish  naturalism  is  to  be  noted.  The 
painters,  with  only  two  or  three  exceptions,  paid  no  heed  to  land- 
scape. Velasquez,  in  a  limited  way,  is  one  of  the  exceptions.  During 
his  stay  in  Rome  he  painted  two  pictures  of  the  gardens  of  the  Villa 
Medici,  where  he  lodged,  and  left  also  views  of  the  palace-grounds 
of  Aranjuez.  But  these  after  all  are  scarcely  landscapes,  since  they 
represent  the  studied  effects  of  verdure  in  combination  with  archi- 
tectural and  sculptural  detail.  His  widely  comprehending  mind, 
however,  had  studied  and  absorbed  the  appearance  and  significance 
of  the  landscape  around  Madrid,  and  he  incorporated  it  into  his  por- 
traits. It  is  characterized  by  a  largeness  of  design,  unembarrassed 
by  detail,  wherein  no  trivialities  encumber  the  main  structural  fea- 
tures. As  Mr.  Stevenson  remarks  "it  is  a  country  in  which  the  figure 
dominates.  You  see  it  on  the  dry  stony  foregrounds  of  empty  roll- 
ing plains,  which  are  ringed  round  with  sharp,  shapely  sierras  in 
the  broad  blue  distance."  This  reads  as  if  it  were  the  description  of 
the  background  in  one  of  the  artist's  open-air  portraits.  And  indeed 
it  might  be,  for  with  just  such  natural  accessories  Velasquez  im- 
parts to  these  canvases  an  heroic  quality,  while  securing  predomi- 
nance for  the  figure.  For  this,  it  is  to  be  observed,  is  his  main 
motive.  Like  the  g^eat  majority  of  the  other  painters  of  Spain, 
though  with  higher  skill  and  feeling,  he  paints  the  landscape  as  sub- 
sidiary to  the  figure,  not  as  an  object  of  study,  desirable  for  its  own 
sake  and  sufficient  in  itself.  Yet  during  his  lifetime  artists  in  Hol- 
land, Ruisdael,  Hobbema,  and  others,  were  extending  the  natural- 
istic motives  of  their  school  to  the  painting  of  landscape,  pure  and 

•  17 


l8  OLD  SPANISH  MASTERS 

simple.    How  came  it  that  the  naturalists  of  Spain,  with  few  excep- 
tions, ignored  it  ? 

While  it  is  not  an  explanation,  it  is  a  fact,  that  the  love  of  land- 
scape is  a  characteristic  of  the  northern  countries.  Titian  and  others 
carried  the  rendering  of  landscape  to  a  high  pitch  of  perfection,  but 
with  them  it  still  remained  subordinate  to  the  figures.  In  fact  in 
southern  countries,  where  outdoor  life  is  easier,  nature  has  not 
fastened  itself  upon  the  imagination  with  an  appeal  so  tenacious  and 
powerful  as  in  hardier  climates,  where  the  struggle  for  existence  is 
more  exacting.  It  is  as  if  the  conflict  of  man  with  nature  produced 
a  better  understanding  of  its  worth.  In  the  case  of  the  Spaniard 
the  generic  indifference  of  the  southerner  may  have  been  increased, 
on  the  one  hand,  by  his  self-concentration,  the  unit  of  the  national 
exclusiveness,  and,  on  the  other,  by  his  religion,  both  of  which  de- 
manded satisfaction,  respectively,  in  portraits  and  figure-pictures. 

Nature,  however,  while  disregarded  as  a  pictorial  subject,  has 
left  its  impress  upon  Spanish  painting,  for  the  different  schools  owe 
their  general  color  characteristics  to  the  suggestion  of  the  local 
landscape,  as  they  do  their  types  of  head  to  racial  variations.  The 
school  of  Castile  is  distinguished,  as  a  rule,  by  dark  and  sober  color- 
ing, gray  backgrounds  and  clouded  skies,  while  the  type  of  female 
head  is  generally  inferior  to  the  male  in  dignity  and  interest,  the 
features  coarse  and  showing  a  predominance  of  Gothic  over  Moorish 
blood.  On  the  other  hand,  the  schools  of  Seville  and  Valencia  were 
affected  by  the  fairer  natural  conditions  of  those  regions.  The 
browns  and  reds  of  the  soil  around  Seville,  as  well  as  the  golden 
yellow  of  the  sunshine,  were  reflected  in  the  pictures  of  that  school, 
while  the  painters  of  Valencia,  the  Riviera  of  Spain,  learned  from 
the  coloring  of  her  hills  a  fondness  for  violet  hues,  and,  from  the 
abundance  and  brilliance  of  her  flora,  a  special  fondness  for  flower- 
subjects.  Moreover,  in  the  pictures  of  both  these  schools  the  Ma- 
donna and  women  saints  exhibit  the  arched  brows,  lustrous  eyes, 
and  delicate  features  inherited  from  their  Arabian  ancestry. 

These  three  schools  of  Castile,  Andalusia,  and  Valencia  are 
alike  distinguished  for  their  treatment  of  drapery,  at  once  natural, 


PORTRAIT  OF  KING  PHILIP  IV  AS  A  SPORTSMAN.     BV  VEUAS(iVEZ. 


PRADn  Ul'UKI'H,    UADRII). 


A  NOTE  ON  SPANISH  PAINTING  I9 

simple,  and  full  of  dignity.  For  everywhere  the  national  "capa" 
or  cloak,  worn  by  all  classes  with  an  instinct  for  picturesque  ar- 
rangement, afforded  suggestive  studies  to  the  painter,  while  even 
the  beggars  that  swarmed  in  the  streets  and  countryside,  carried 
their  rags  with  elegance.  Moreover  Spain  abounded  with  monas- 
teries, and  pictures  in  honor  of  the  several  religious  orders  were  in 
constant  demand.  Thus  Murillo  and  Espinosa  were  much  employed 
by  the  brown-habited  Franciscans ;  Carducho  and  Zurbaran  by  Car- 
thusian white- friars,  and  Roelas  by  the  black-f rocked  order  of  the 
Jesuits.  The  ample  masses  and  simple  folds  of  these  plain-colored 
habits  were  a  constant  example  to  the  painter  of  the  effectiveness  of 
broad  simplicity.  Thus  the  Spanish  school  brought  the  treatment  of 
draperies  to  a  pitch  of  dignity  that  has  never  been  excelled. 


t 


EARLY  NATIVE  ART  AND 
FOREIGN  INFLUENCE 


CHAPTER  I 

EARLY    NATIVE    ART    AND    FOREIGN    INFLUENCE 

THE   PERIOD   OF    FERDINAND    AND    ISABELLA 
(1492-1516) 

THE  reign  of  Ferdinand  and  Isabella  represented  the  most 
brilliant  epoch  of  Spanish  history.  It  was  a  dawn  flushed 
with  victorious  achievement,  full  of  golden  promise,  a  period 
of  high  enthusiasm.  For  not  only  had  a  new  continent  been  discov- 
ered, but  there  were  opening  up  new  worlds  of  intellectual  enter- 
prise. History,  drama,  and  painting  claimed  attention.  Pulgar,  the 
father  of  Castilian  history ;  Cota,  whose  dramas  were  a  foretaste  of 
Lope  de  Vega's  and  Calderon's,  and  Rincon,  the  first  native  painter 
of  note,  were  prominent  amid  the  throng  of  courtiers  that  gathered 
in  the  presence  chamber  of  Isabella. 

The  enchanting  beauty  of  the  Alhambra  and  the  palaces,  gar- 
dens and  fountains  of  Granada  had  helped  to  fire  the  imagination  of 
the  conquerors  to  emulate  the  arts  and  learning  of  the  vanquished. 
Especially  during  this  reign  was  progress  made  in  the  art  of  archi- 
tecture. The  queen  herself  set  the  example  of  building  monasteries 
and  churches  and  endowing  them  as  centers  of  learning  and  of 
sumptuous  worship.  Even  Ferdinand,  the  Spanish  counterpart  in 
craft,  as  well  as  the  contemporary,  of  Henry  VII  of  England,  though 
too  parsimonious  and  immersed  in  state  intrigues  to  bestow  much 
thought  on  the  arts,  recognized  the  advantage  of  their  cultivation, 
and  approved,  if  he  did  not  much  aid,  the  magnificent  patronage  of 
his  queen. 

«3 


SCHOOL  OF  CASTILE 

Antonio  Rincon,  of  the  school  of  Castile,  is  the  first  Spanish 
painter  mentioned  by  Palomino.  He  was  born  at  Guadalajara,  a 
province  of  Castile,  in  1446,  and  is  supposed  to  have  studied  in  Italy 
under  Castagno  or  Ghirlandajo.  But  this  seems  to  have  been  an 
assumption  based  on  the  fact  that  he  was  the  first  to  soften  the  stiflf- 
ness  of  the  Gothic  style  by  giving  his  figures  something  of  the  grace 
and  proportions  of  nature,  and  that  the  influence  of  the  Italian  <^uat- 
trocentists  was  at  this  period  finding  its  way  into  Spain.  It  was  felt 
especially  in  Toledo,  where  much  of  Rincon's  life  was  spent.  He 
enjoyed  the  patronage  of  the  cathedral  chapter  and  of  Ferdinand 
and  Isabella,  by  whom  he  was  appointed  court  painter  and  honored 
with  the  Order  of  Santiago.  Portraits  of  these  sovereigns,  painted 
by  him,  hung  over  the  high  altar  of  the  Church  of  San  Juan  de  los 
Reyes,  in  Toledo,  until  they  disappeared  in  the  wars  of  the  French 
usurpation.  Similar  portraits  were  likewise  possessed  by  the  Church 
of  San  Bias,  in  Valladolid,  but  were  removed  at  the  beginning  of  the 
nineteenth  century  to  the  staircase  of  the  chaplain's  house,  near 
San  Juan  Letran  in  that  city.  They  were  suffering  from  exposure  to 
the  open  air,  when  seen  by  Bosarte,  who  praises  them  for  the  curious 
exactness  of  their  costumes. 

In  the  Royal  Gallery  in  Madrid  hang  two  full-length  portraits  of 
the  Catholic  sovereigns,  copied  from  Rincon  and,  perhaps,  from  the 
Toledo  or  Valladolid  originals.  Of  these  Stirling-Maxwell  writes 
that  both  seem  to  have  been  painted  when  the  sitters  were  in  the 

24 


THE   PERIOD    OF    FERDINAND    AND    ISABELLA  2$ 

prime  of  life.  Ferdinand  has  the  dignified  presence  and  the  fine 
features,  clothed  with  "impenetrable  frigidity,"  ascribed  to  him  by 
Prescott.  His  hair,  usually  spoken  of  as  bright  chestnut,  is  dark 
here,  and  being  cut  short  and  combed  over  the  brow,  enhances  the 
cunning  keenness  of  his  eyes.  Over  a  cuirass  he  wears  a  surcoat  and 
black  cloak,  and  holds  a  paper,  apparently  of  accounts.  The  queen's 
portrait  is  no  less  true  to  history  than  her  husband's.  Her  bright 
auburn  hair  and  blue  eyes  are  among  the  points  of  resemblance  that 
she  bears  to  the  English  Elizabeth,  recalling  the  latter  as  she  ap- 
pears in  an  early  portrait  by  Holbein,  at  Hampton  Court.  But  in 
beauty  of  person  the  Castilian  far  excelled  her.  Isabella's  forehead 
is  high  and  full,  and  her  eyes  are  softly  lustrous.  The  finely  formed 
mouth  indicates  energy,  tempered  with  gentleness;  and  the  whole 
expression  of  the  head  and  bearing  of  the  figure  are  not  unworthy  of 
the  woman  upon  whose  person  and  character  so  much  deserved 
praise  has  been  bestowed.  Her  dress  is  a  crimson  robe,  trimmed 
with  gold,  over  which  falls  a  dark  mantle.  In  her  hand  is  a  little 
breviary,  as  fitting  and  characteristic  a  companion  of  the  pious 
queen's  leisure,  as  is  the  financial  statement  between  the  fingers  of 
her  lord. 

At  the  village  of  Roblada  de  Qiavila,  a  few  miles  west  of  the 
Escorial,  Cean  Bermudez,  author  of  the  "Dictionary  of  the  Fine  Arts 
in  Spain,"  mentioned  the  existence  of  an  altar  decorated  with  seven- 
teen pictures  of  the  "Life  of  the  Virgin,"  painted  entirely  by  Rincon, 
which  he  praises  for  their  "drawing,  beauty,  character,  expression, 
and  excellent  draperies."  Many  of  Rincon's  works  were  burnt  in 
the  fire  which  destroyed  the  Palace  of  the  Prado,  in  1608.  He  died 
in  1500,  leaving  a  son,  who  assisted  Juan  de  Borgoiia  in  various 
works  at  Toledo.. 

This  painter,  although,  as  his  name  declares,  a  foreigner,  became 
by  reason  of  his  influence  at  this  early  period  a  part  of  the  story  of 
Spanish  painting.  For,  a  Burgundian  by  birth,  he  represented  the 
Flemish  tradition,  modified  by  contact  with  the  Florentine  quattro- 
centists,  Carl  Justi  suggests  that  Ghirlandajo  may  have  been  his 
master ;  and,  notwithstanding  a  certain  crudity  and  stiffness  of  type 


26  OLD    SPANISH    MASTERS 

in  his  figures,  he  recalls  the  Florentine's  firmness  and  breadth  of 
drawing,  and  clear  sprightliness  of  color.  He  enjoyed  a  high  repu- 
tation at  Toledo  under  the  patronage  of  the  great  Archbishop  Xime- 
nes  de  Cisneros.  His  frescos  in  the  cathedral  cloisters  have  disap- 
peared beneath  the  over-paintings  of  the  eighteenth-century  Bayeu, 
but  on  the  walls  of  the  Chapter  House  his  works  may  still  be  seen, 
well  preserved  and  admirable  for  their  brilliant  color  and  tasteful 
draperies.  The  end  of  the  room  is  occupied  by  a  large  composition, 
representing  "The  Last  Judgment,"  which  is  remarkably  suggestive 
of  the  imagination  of  the  time.  Immediately  beneath  a  figure  of 
Christ,  a  hideous  fiend,  in  the  shape  of  a  boar,  roots  a  woman  out  of 
her  grave  with  his  snout,  twining  her  long  amber  locks  around  his 
tusks.  To  the  left  are  drawn  up  in  line  allegorical  embodiments  of 
the  several  vices,  the  name  of  each  appearing  on  a  label  above  the 
head,  in  Gothic  letters.  On  their  shoulders  sit  little  malicious  imps 
of  monkey-shape,  while  flames  curl  round  their  lower  limbs. 

That  Borgoila  was  also  a  skilful  painter  in  oils  is  proved  by  the 
retablo  in  the  cathedral  of  Avila.  In  these  he  was  assisted  by  the 
court  painter,  Pedro  Berruguete,  and  Santos  Cruz,  for  the  work  ex- 
hibits two  styles  beside  his  own :  one  that  of  a  follower  of  Perugino, 
as  Berruguete  is  credited  with  being,  and  the  other  that  of  a  purely 
Castilian  painter.  The  realistically  conceived  racial  types,  the  vigor- 
ous coloring,  the  firmness  of  the  drawing  and  perspective,  and  the 
skilful  handling  of  the  gilded  surfaces  make  the  retablo  take  rank  as 
one  of  the  most  characteristic  performances  of  early  Spanish  art. 
(Justi.) 

A  work  of  great  archaeological  interest  is  the  series  of  portraits 
of  the  primates  of  Spain,  down  to  and  including  Cardinal  de  Fon- 
seca,  which  Borgofia  painted  in  the  Winter  Chapter  Room.  Most  of 
the  fabulous  and  early  prelates  seem  to  have  been  drawn  from  a 
single  model;  but  the  authentic  portraits  of  his  contemporaries  are 
distinguished  by  dignity  and  character.  The  painter  has  betrayed 
his  Flemish  propensity  in  the  care  and  patience  bestowed  upon  the 
vestments  and  accessories.  The  collection,  indeed,  affords  an  ex- 
traordinary opportunity  to  the  student  of  ecclesiastical  details ;  with 


THE   PERIOD   OF    FERDINAND   AND    ISABELLA  27 

its  innumerable  and  gorgeous  specimens  of  episcopal  ornament,  of 
crozier,  pallium,  pectoral  cross,  gloves,  and  miters.  The  artist  some- 
times furnished  designs  for  church  plate.  His  name  ceases  to  ap- 
pear in  the  cathedral  records  in  1533,  when,  it  is  supposed,  he  died. 
Under  the  enlightened  munificence  of  its  archbishops  Toledo  be- 
came at  this  time  the  metropolis  of  art.  The  Cardinal-Archbishop 
Mendoza  erected  at  his  own  cost  the  magnificent  building  of  the 
Foundling  Hospital  of  Santa  Cruz,  while  his  successor,  Ximenes  de 
Cisneros,  was  even  more  munificent  in  his  patronage  of  art  and  let- 
ters. Under  his  supervision  the  sculptor,  Vigarny,  achieved  the 
noble  high  altar  of  marble  in  the  cathedral,  while  the  latter's 
archives  still  preserve  the  cardinal-archbishop's  missal,  in  seven  folio 
volumes,  embellished  with  paintings  and  illuminations  by  artists 
whose  names  the  work  has  saved  from  oblivion.  At  Alcala  de 
Henares,  the  birthplace  of  Cervantes,  some  twenty  miles  from  Ma- 
drid, he  founded  a  university  that  in  the  sixteenth  century  was  at- 
tended by  as  many  as  twelve  thousand  students.  It  was  here  that  the 
celebrated  Polyglot  Bible,  known  as  the  Complutensian,  was  com- 
piled at  Ximenes'  expense. 


II 

SCHOOL  OF  ANDALUSIA 

But  while  Castilian  art  had  found  its  metropolis  in  Toledo,  the  seat 
of  government,  for  the  court  was  not  finally  transferred  to  Madrid 
until  the  reign  of  Philip  II,  beginnings  had  been  also  made  of  native 
schools  in  Andalusia  and  Valencia.  These  were  under  the  no  less 
munificent  patronage  of  the  church.  The  founder  of  the  former 
school  was  Juan  Sanchez  de  Castro,  who  as  early  as  1454,  that  is  to 
say,  before  the  accession  of  the  Catholic  sovereigns,  painted  for  the 
cathedral  of  Seville  the  pictures  of  the  old  Gothic  altar,  which, 
though  stiflf  and  languid  in  design,  still  preserved  their  freshness 
of  color,  when  seen  by  Cean  Bermudez,  three  hundred  years  after- 
ward. For  the  church  of  San  Julian,  he  painted  in  fresco  a  giant 
Saint  Christopher  in  a  bufif  tunic  and  red  mantle,  who  bears  more 
than  the  usual  burden  assigned  to  him ;  for,  beside  the  Holy  Child 
who  holds  the  world  in  his  hand,  the  saint  supports  the  weight  of 
two  palmers  in  habits  of  the  Middle  Ages,  who  hang  by  his  leathern 
girdle,  and  so  pass  the  river  dry  shod.  But  the  figures  have  been 
repainted  and  the  signature  is  almost  all  that  remains  of  the  origi- 
nal work.  Pictures  of  Saint  Christopher  are  common  in  Spanish 
churches  and  are  usually  placed  near  the  entrance,  to  enforce 
humility  on  the  worshipers.  A  follower  of  Sanchez  de  Castro  was 
Juan  Nunez,  whose  best  work  is  in  the  cathedral,  representing 
the  Virgin  supporting  the  dead  body  of  the  Lord,  with  accompanying 
figures  of  Saint  Michael  and  Saint  Vincent  Martyr,  and  of  an  eccle- 
siastic kneeling  beneath  the  group. 


Ill 

SCHOOL  OF  VALENCIA 

In  Valencia,  always  particularly  susceptible  to  Italian  influence, 
early  names  are  those  of  Francisco  Neapoli  and  Pablo  de  Aregio, 
who  are  supposed  to  have  been  pupils  of  Leonardo  da  Vinci.  To 
them  has  been  ascribed  the  series  of  scenes  from  the  "Life  of  the 
Virgin"  painted  on  the  doors  of  the  great  side  altar  in  La  Seo,  the 
cathedral  of  Valencia.  They  were  presented  to  the  city  by  Pope 
Alexander  VI,  of  the  Valencian  house  of  Borgia;  and  it  was  in 
recognition  of  their  beauty  that  Philip  IV  remarked:  "The  altar  is 
of  silver,  but  the  doors  are  of  gold." 

Most  important,  however,  of  the  early  Valencian  painters,  writes 
Carl  Justi,  was  Pablo  de  San  Leocadia,  highly  appreciated  by  his 
contemporaries,  yet  overlooked  by  the  writers  of  biographical  dic- 
tionaries and  encyclopedias.  His  large  retablo  at  Gandia  and  the 
now  dismembered  retablo  of  Villareal,  reveal  him  as  a  painter  who 
did  for  Valencia  what  Juan  de  Borgofia  did  for  Castile.  He  is  distin- 
guished by  deep  culture,  nobility  of  form  and  expression,  delicate 
sensibility,  and  close  observation  of  life. 

It  was  not,  however,  in  painting,  but  in  architecture  and  sculp- 
ture, that  the  high  enthusiasm  of  the  time  was  most  signally  ex- 
pressed. The  Pointed  or  Gothic  style,  originally  derived  from 
France,  now  became  enriched  by  German  and  Flemish  artists,  who 
introduced  a  rapidly  increasing  profusion  of  ornament,  a  decorative 
treatment,  often  very  realistic,  of  animal  and  plant  forms.  The 
heart  of  this  movement  was  the  diocese  of  Burgos,  from  which  archi- 

*9 


30  OLD   SPANISH    MASTERS 

tects  and  sculptors  were  summoned  to  various  parts  of  the  country, 
especially  to  Seville.  This  was  the  period  of  great  tomb-building, 
and  famous  among  the  builders  were  the  Siloes  of  Burgos,  father 
and  son,  sculptors  as  well  as  architects.  Gil,  the  father,  is  best 
known  for  his  magnificent  tombs  of  King  Juan  II  and  his  Queen  Isa- 
bella of  Portugal,  the  parents  of  Isabella  the  Catholic,  and  for  the 
tomb  of  the  latter's  young  brother,  Don  Alfonso.  These  are  the 
chief  glory  of  the  Carthusian  convent  of  Miraflores,  and  among  the 
finest  in  Europe.  The  massive  plinths  which  bear  the  recumbent 
figures  are  octagonal  in  shape,  with  two  lions  at  each  angle,  support- 
ing the  royal  escutcheon.  The  sides  are  embellished  with  statues,  set 
beneath  canopies  that  in  their  intricate  filigree  work  of  leaves, 
branches,  fruit,  flowers,  and  birds,  are  marvels  of  fantastic  imagina- 
tion and  untiring  craftsmanship. 

The  remains  of  the  Catholic  sovereigns  themselves  rest  beneath 
stately  tombs  in  the  Chapel  Royal  of  the  cathedral  in  Granada,  the 
city  of  their  great  triumph.  These  magnificent  mausoleums  were 
erected  to  their  order  by  Felipe  Vigarny,  otherwise  called  Philip  de 
Borgoiia,  an  architect  and  sculptor  trained  in  Italy,  and  their  style 
is  that  of  the  Cinquecento.  Their  grandson,  Charles  I,  enlarged  the 
chapel,  finding  it  "too  small  for  so  great  glory,"  and  added  tombs  in 
honor  of  his  parents,  Philip  of  Austria  and  the  mad  queen,  Juana, 
employing  for  the  purpose  an  artist  of  Burgos.  When  it  is  remem- 
bered that  Charles  had  no  fondness  for  his  Castilian  subjects,  this 
choice  of  a  native  artist  in  preference  to  an  Italian,  Pietro  Torrigiano, 
points  to  the  rapid  progress  achieved  by  the  arts  in  Spain  during  this 
glorious  epoch. 


BEGINNINGS  OF  ITALIAN 
INFLUENCE 


CHAPTER    II 

BEGINNINGS   OF   ITALIAN    INFLUENCE 

THE   PERIOD   OF   CHARLES   I 
(1516-1556) 

FERDINAND  survived  Isabella  thirteen  years.  At  his  death, 
in  1 5 16,  his  grandson  became  Qiarles  I  of  Spain,  the  Indies, 
all  lands  west  of  the  Atlantic,  and  the  Kingdom  of  Naples  and 
Sicily.  He  was  sixteen  years  old,  and,  through  his  father's  death, 
had  already  been  for  ten  years  archduke  of  the  Netherlands  and 
Franche-Comte.  Three  years  later,  in  15 19,  upon  the  decease  of  his 
paternal  grandfather,  Maximilian,  he  was  elected  by  the  Diet  Em- 
peror of  Germany,  under  the  title  of  Charles  V. 

It  is  significant  that  he  is  better  known  under  the  latter  title  than 
as  Charles  I  of  Spain.  Until  a  year  after  his  accession  he  never  set 
foot  in  Spain.  Born  in  Ghent,  and  brought  up  in  Brussels,  he  was  at 
heart  a  Netherlander.  But  even  if  his  interest  in  Spain  had  been  far 
greater  than  it  was,  his  multifarious  duties  and  ambitions,  spread 
over  and  beyond  his  vast  dominions,  would  have  left  him  little  time 
or  opportunity  to  watch  over  her  welfare.  He  made  occasional  visits 
to  Spain,  during  which  he  threw  himself  with  characteristic  ardor  into 
various  public  schemes,  and  from  a  distance  exercised  a  general  con- 
trol over  his  viceroys.  But  the  continuity  of  the  reforms  instituted 
by  Isabella,  and  the  steady  development  of  political  unity  that  fol- 
lowed them,  were  interrupted.  Allured  on  the  one  hand  by  the 
wealth  of  the  New  World,  and  drawn  on  the  other  into  Charles's 
»  33 


34  OLD    SPANISH    MASTERS 

European  intrigues  and  wars,  Spain  gradually  relinquished  her  na- 
tional progress  to  become  a  nation  of  adventurers.  About  to  enter 
upon  a  period  of  spectacular  supremacy,  she  was  already  on  the  path 
that  was  to  end  in  her  decay.  It  is  with  these  conditions  that  her  art 
is  intimately  connected.  The  drama  previously  seen  in  Italy  is  to 
be  reenacted  in  Spain,  of  national  art  and  political  life  proceeding  in 
inverse  ratio ;  the  art  to  reach  its  climax  on  the  ruins  of  the  nation. 

So  the  reign  of  Charles,  viewed  in  relation  to  Spanish  painting,  is 
a  period  of  transition.  The  gradual  development  of  native  art  is 
interrupted;  the  Spaniard  goes  abroad  to  absorb  the  influence  of 
Italy,  and  it  is  not  until  nearly  a  hundred  years  later,  in  the  reign  of 
Philip  IV,  that  the  influence  will  have  been  thoroughly  digested,  and 
an  art  truly  native  will  assert  itself  in  Murillo  and  Velasquez. 

With  the  sagacity  of  his  grandfather,  Ferdinand,  Charles  in- 
herited also  much  of  the  fine  taste  of  Isabella.  In  the  midst  of  wars 
and  intrigues  he  found  time  to  notice  and  reward  many  of  the  chief 
artists  of  foreign  countries  as  well  as  of  his  own  broad  domain.  As 
a  patron  of  art,  he  was  as  well  known  in  Nuremberg  and  Venice  as 
in  Antwerp  and  Toledo.  In  architecture  he  left  several  monuments. 
At  Madrid  was  rebuilt  the  greater  part  of  the  Alcazar,  which,  after 
being  embellished  by  his  successors,  perished  by  fire  in  the  reign  of 
Philip  V.  He  restored  and  enlarged  the  hunting-lodge  at  the  Prado ; 
commenced,  but  never  completed,  a  palace  at  Granada,  and  added  a 
noble  court  to  the  citadel  of  Toledo.  Nothing  remains  of  it  but  the 
shell,  yet  the  fagade  of  the  front,  the  interior  arcade,  and  the  grand 
staircase,  still  attest  the  grandeur  of  conception  of  the  architects, 
Covarrubias  and  Vergara. 

Painting,  however,  was  the  art  in  which  Charles  especially  de- 
lighted and  displayed  a  cultivated  and  discriminating  taste.  He 
lavished  honor  on  Titian,  feeling  that  it  redounded  to  his  own.  No 
other  hand,  he  declared,  should  draw  hfs  portrait,  since  he  had  thrice 
received  immortality  from  the  pencil  of  Titian.  And,  when  worn 
out  with  fifty-five  years  of  life,  old  before  his  years,  he  resigned  the 
empire  to  his  brother  Ferdinand,  and  Spain  and  the  Netherlands  to 
his  son  Philip  II,  and  retired  to  the  monastery  of  San  Yuste,  it  was 


1X)N    UAI.TASAK   CARLOS  (DKTAII.).     IIV   VM.ASf.)!!/. 

MAIIirtll  Ul-Mtl-M. 


BEGINNINGS   OF    ITALIAN    INFLUENCE  35 

Titian's  so-called  "Gloria"  that  hung  in  his  bedroom.  Before  this 
apotheosis  of  himself,  he  died,  leaving  directions  that  it  should  be 
removed  with  his  body  to  the  Escorial.  The  order  was  carried  out, 
and  the  picture  is  now  with  the  other  Titians  in  the  Prado. 

One  of  the  last  acts  of  Charles's  official  life  was  an  imperial  pre- 
script, permitting  the  wives  of  goldsmiths  in  Spain  to  wear  silk  at- 
tire, a  luxury  forbidden  by  the  sumptuary  laws  to  the  class  of 
artisans  and  craftsmen.  But  in  consequence  of  the  enormous  flood 
of  precious  metals  pouring  into  the  country  from  the  New  World, 
the  art  of  the  goldsmiths  had  assumed  an  extraordinary  importance. 
It  was  no  longer  a  craft  merely  of  metal-workers,  but  enlisted  the 
finest  imagination  of  artists.  The  goldsmiths,  in  fact,  had  become 
architects  and  sculptors  in  plate.  For,  in  addition  to  the  smaller  ob- 
jects that  enriched  the  ceremonial  of  the  church  and  the  palaces  of 
royalty  and  nobility,  gold  and  silver  was  fashioned  into  tabernacles 
and  shrines,  and  into  that  characteristic  adornment  of  Spanish 
cathedrals,  the  custodia.  The  latter  was  an  ark  or  tabernacle,  for 
the  reservation  of  the  Host,  surmounted  by  a  canopy,  that  rose  in 
tiers  of  architectural  design  until  it  resembled  an  edifice  in  minia- 
ture. Nine  feet  is  the  height  of  the  celebrated  example  in  the  Toledo 
cathedral,  that  has  escaped  the  fate  of  many  of  those  miracles  of 
design  and  workmanship,  which  were  melted  down  by  the  French  in 
the  War  of  Independence.  The  creation  of  Henrique  d'Arphe,  a 
native  of  Germany,  who  settled  in  Leon  early  in  the  century,  it  is  a 
Gothic  structure,  somewhat  resembling  the  Scott  monument  in  Edin- 
burgh, though  far  exceeding  it  in  richness  of  design  and  luxuriance 
of  decoration.  From  an  octagon  base  rise  eight  piers  and  pointed 
arches,  supporting  as  many  light  pinnacles,  clustered  around  the 
beautiful  filigree  spire.  Beneath  the  canopy  is  a  smaller  shrine  for 
the  Host,  fashioned  of  purest  gold,  and  blazing  with  jewels.  The 
whole  is  a  dazzling  mass  of  fretwork  and  pinnacles,  flying  buttresses, 
pierced  parapets,  and  decorated  niches,  among  which  are  disposed 
two  hundred  and  sixty  exquisite  statuettes.  The  apparently  inex- 
haustive  inventiveness  lavished  on  this  custodia,  so  that  there  is  no 
tedium  of  repetition,  but  every  detail  has  been  the  creation  of  a  fresh 


36  OLD    SPANISH    MASTERS 

impulse,  has  gained  for  it  the  reputation  of  being  the  most  beautiful 
piece  of  plate  in  existence.  The  work  of  Henrique  d'Arphe  was 
carried  on  with  equal  brilliance  by  his  son,  Antonio,  who,  however, 
reflecting  the  influence  of  Italy,  substituted  for  the  Gothic  style  the 
classic  orders,  as  used  by  the  architects  of  the  Italian  Renaissance. 
The  example  of  these  artists  and  of  other  workers  in  plate  was 
gradually  adapted  by  the  architects  of  Spain  to  the  treatment  of 
large  surfaces  of  buildings,  enriched  by  the  sculptors  with  a  pro- 
fusion of  ornament  and  statuary ;  and  this  florid  style  is  character- 
ized in  Spain  by  the  name  of  "plateresque." 

While  Charles  was  enriching  Spain  with  Italian  masterpieces, 
and  at  the  same  time  precipitating  the  ruin  of  Italy  by  making  it 
the  chess-board  on  which  he  played  his  game  for  supremacy  with  the 
French  king,  Francis  I,  a  peaceful  invasion  of  that  country  was 
being  made  by  Spanish  students,  in  search  of  scholarship  and  art. 
Italy,  the  fountain  and  source  of  both,  was  explored  by  intellectual 
adventurers  no  less  characteristic  of  the  ferment  of  the  times  than 
those  who  were  pushing  their  material  exploits  beyond  the  western 
ocean.  Nor  was  it  long  before  there  was  a  reciprocity  of  intellectual 
commerce  between  the  two  peninsulas.  Spanish  students  flocked  to 
the  universities  and  botteghe  of  Italy.  But  the  Spanish  genius  soon 
asserted  itself,  as  it  had  done  during  the  Roman  occupation,  when, 
having  quickly  assimilated  the  new  civilization,  it  reenforced  the 
literature  of  Rome  with  men  of  letters,  such  as  the  three  Senecas, 
Lucian,  Martial,  and  Quintilian.  So  now,  in  the  early  part  of  the 
sixteenth  century,  Spaniards  became  distinguished  as  professors  in 
the  Italian  universities  and  welcomed  as  patrons  by  the  Italian 
artists ;  many  of  the  latter  secured  honor  and  emolument  in  Spain, 
and  Italians  were  to  be  found  among  the  students  of  the  Valladolid 
university.  Of  the  Italianized  Spanish  painters  of  this  transition 
period,  it  will  be  sufficient  to  mention  three,  Berruguete,  Vargas, 
and  Joanes,  representing,  respectively,  the  three  schools  of  Castile, 
Andalusia,  and  Valencia. 


SCHOOL  OF  CASTILE 

First  of  the  trio  in  age  and  importance  was  Alonzo  Berruguete, 
bom  about  1480,  in  the  province  of  Old  Castile.  He  received 
his  first  instruction  from  his  father,  Pedro,  already  mentioned  as 
cooperating  with  Borgona  and  as  showing  the  influence  of  Perugino. 
After  his  father's  death,  he  moved  to  Italy  and  entered  the  school  in 
Florence  of  Michelangelo,  whose  example  he  subsequently  followed 
by  becoming  famous  as  architect,  sculptor,  and  painter.  In  1 503  he 
made  a  copy  of  the  celebrated  cartoon,  "The  Battle  of  Pisa,"  which 
Michelangelo  had  made  in  competition  with  Leonardo  da  Vinci's 
"Battle  of  the  Standard,"  and  the  following  year  accompanied  his 
master  to  Rome.  Here  his  proficiency  was  recognized  by  Bramante, 
who  selected  him  as  one  of  the  sculptors  to  model  the  Laocoon,  for 
the  purpose  of  casting  it  in  bronze,  but  the  competition  was  won  by 
Sansovino.  Returning  to  Florence  he  was  employed  by  the  nuns  of 
St.  Jerome  to  complete  a  picture,  left  unfinished  by  Filippo  Lippi  at 
his  death,  and  for  many  years  enjoyed  the  friendship  of  the  chief 
artists  of  the  time,  especially  of  Bandinelli  and  Andrea  del  Sarto.  In 
1520  he  returned  to  Spain  and  settled  in  Valladolid,  then  the  seat  of 
the  court,  where  he  soon  attracted  the  notice  of  Charles,  who  ap- 
pointed him  one  of  his  painters  and  later  conferred  on  him  the 
chamberlain's  key. 

The  pictures  attributed  to  him  in  Valladolid,  Salamanca,  and 
Palencia,  show  "a  strange  and  yet  intelligent  reproduction  of  Ra- 
phaelcsque  forms."  But  it  was  as  an  architect  in  the  "plateresque" 

37 


38  OLD  SPANISH  MASTERS 

style  and,  even  more,  as  a  sculptor,  that  he  chiefly  impressed  his  per- 
sonality on  the  period.  While  some  of  his  work,  such  as  the  ala- 
baster statuettes  in  the  choir  of  the  cathedral  at  Toledo,  show  a  re- 
markable power  of  inventing  expressive  attitudes,  gained  from  his 
study  with  Michelangelo,  a  great  deal  is  characterized  by  the  ex- 
travagant mannerism  into  which  the  followers  of  that  master  both  in 
Italy  and  in  Spain  were  betrayed  by  superabundance  of  energy  and 
inventiveness.  Although  this  so-called  "Grotesque  style"  appeared 
in  Spain  twelve  years  before  Berruguete's  return  home,  his  name, 
through  the  number  and  importance  of  his  works,  has  been  par- 
ticularly identified  with  its  development.  The  most  notorious  ex- 
amples of  his  art  in  this  manner  are  the  statues  and  carvings  in  the 
museum  at  Valladolid,  which  originally  formed  the  embellishment  of 
the  high  altar  in  the  Church  of  Saint  Benito,  belonging  to  the  Bene- 
dictine monastery.  These  are  likened  by  Carl  Justi  to  the  creations 
of  a  madman. 


II 

SCHOOL  OF  ANDALUSIA 

In  Andalusia,  where  the  absence  of  imperial  patronage  was  amply 
filled  by  the  magnificence  of  the  church  and  monasteries,  the 
chief  artist  of  the  transition  was  Luis  de  Vargas.  Born  in  Seville  in 
1502,  he  early  devoted  himself  to  painting,  and  found  means  to  visit 
Italy  where,  on  the  evidence  of  his  style,  he  is  supposed  to  have 
studied  with  Perino  del  Vaga,  one  of  Raphael's  assistants  in  the 
decoration  of  the  Vatican  Stanze.  The  first  picture  he  painted  upon 
his  return  to  Seville,  after  some  twenty-four  years'  absence,  was  a 
"Nativity"  still  to  be  seen  in  the  chapel  of  the  cathedral,  dedicated  to 
that  event.  The  Virgin  has  much  of  the  charm  of  Raphael's  manner, 
while  a  peasant  who  kneels  at  her  feet,  offering  a  basket  of  doves,  is 
a  study  from  nature,  anticipating  the  naturalistic  rendering  of  local 
types  that  became  so  usual  in  Sevillian  pictures.  His  finest  work  is 
the  altarpiece  in  the  Chapel  of  the  Conception,  in  Seville  Cathedral, 
representing  the  "Temporal  Generation  of  Our  Lord."  It  is  a  sort 
of  allegory,  showing  the  human  ancestors  of  the  infant  Saviour 
adoring  him  as  he  lies  in  the  lap  of  the  Virgin.  In  the  foreground 
kneels  Adam,  concerning  one  of  whose  legs  there  is  a  tradition  that 
Perez  de  Alasio,  an  Italian  painter,  declared  it  was  worth  the  whole 
of  a  colossal  "Saint  Christopher"  that  he  himself  had  painted  in 
another  part  of  the  cathedral.  Hence  the  picture  is  popularly  known 
as  "La  Gamba."  On  the  outer  wall,  in  the  court  of  orange  trees, 
Vargas  painted  in  fresco  a  "Christ  Going  to  Calvary."  It  was  known 
as  the  "Christ  of  the  Criminals,"  because  it  was  customary  for  the 


40  OLD    SPANISH    MASTERS 

condemned  to  pass  it  on  their  way  to  execution  and  stop  in  front  of 
it  for  a  final  prayer.  It  is  said  to  have  been  an  excellent  work,  but 
has  perished,  as  also  have  the  frescos  of  Sevillian  saints  and  martyrs 
painted  by  this  artist  in  the  Moorish  niches  of  the  Giralda.  Only  on 
the  north  side  could  be  seen,  when  Stirling-Maxwell  visited  Seville, 
the  "faded  and  oft  repainted  ruins"  of  Santas  Justa  and  Rufina, 
represented,  according  to  the  ancient  custom,  bearing  the  Giralda  in 
their  hands,  to  commemorate  its  miraculous  preservation  in  a  storm 
that  laid  low  a  great  part  of  the  city.  In  the  roar  of  the  tempest,  says 
the  legend,  a  voice  was  heard  near  the  top  of  the  tower,  crying: 
"Down  with  it!  Down  with  it!"  whereat  another  voice  made  an- 
swer :  "It  cannot  be,  for  Justa  and  Rufina  are  upholding  it." 

Vargas  lived  on  into  the  reign  of  Philip  II,  dying  in  1568.  He 
had  the  reputation  of  being  a  great  painter,  founded,  it  seems  likely, 
particularly  on  his  frescoes,  and,  as  we  have  already  remarked,  was 
celebrated  also  for  his  piety  and  austerities.  That  he  was  likewise  a 
man  of  humor,  appears  from  the  answer  he  is  reputed  to  have  made 
to  one  who  desired  his  opinion  of  an  indiflferent  picture  of  "Our  Lord 
on  His  Cross."  "Methinks,"  replied  Vargas,  "that  He  is  saying 
'Forgive  them.  Lord,  for  they  know  not  what  they  do.'  " 


Ill 

SCHOOL  OF  VALENCIA 

Valencia,  being  the  native  province  of  the  Borgias,  was  enriched 
by  them  with  masterpieces  from  Italy,  especially  with  works  of  the 
school  of  Leonardo  da  Vinci.  The  latter,  we  have  already  observed, 
was  supposed  to  have  been  the  master  of  the  early  Valencian 
painters,  Francisco  Neapoli  and  Pablo  de  Aregio;  and  now,  in  this 
transition  period,  another  meets  us  of  whom  the  same  report  is 
made.  This  is  Vincente  Juan  Macip,  commonly  known  as  Juan  de 
Joanes,  who  was  born  in  1523,  probably  in  the  village  of  Fuente  de 
Higuera,  amongst  the  hills  which  divide  Valencia  from  Murcia.  But 
there  is  nothing  except  surmise  to  warrant  the  belief  that  he  was 
ever  in  Italy,  and  it  is  more  probable  that  he,  as  well  as  the  earlier 
men,  gained  his  style,  which  is  a  mingling  of  Leonardo  and  Raphael, 
from  the  study  of  imported  pictures.  He  was  a  man  of  very  pious 
life,  who,  regarding  his  art  as  a  sacred  gift,  painted  only  religious 
subjects  and  only  for  ecclesiastical  patrons.  We  have  already  re- 
called the  legend  of  the  Virgin  personally  commissioning  him  to 
paint  her  picture ;  and  the  story  has  significance  in  showing  the  kind 
of  reputation  that  he  had.  He  was  celebrated  for  his  own  devoutness 
and  for  the  devotional  beauty  that  he  gave  to  the  faces  of  the  holy 
personages,  especially  of  the  Virgin  and  Christ.  "Moreover,  his 
numerous  and  generally  small  pictures  are  attractive  through  their 
warm  and  deep  colors,  their  vigorous  handling,  and  rich  warm  land- 
scapes. Yet  these  qualities  do  not  conceal  their  poverty  of  invention, 
nor  the  imiformity  of  the  types,  attitudes,  expression,  and  grouping." 


42  OLD    SPANISH    MASTERS 

(Justi.)  He  executed  some  admirable  portraits,  among  them  one  of 
Juan  de  Ribera,  Archbishop  and  Viceroy  of  Valencia,  known  after 
his  canonization  as  "el  beato."  This  great  and  pious  churchman, 
born  of  an  Andalusian  family  illustrious  for  taste  and  munificence, 
founded  the  College  of  Corpus  Christi  at  Valencia,  and  it  was  under 
his  patronage  and  inspiration  that  Joanes  painted  so  many  pictures 
of  the  Saviour.  For  the  most  part  they  represent  Him  in  the  act  of 
dispensing  the  Holy  Elements.    Joanes  died  in  1579. 


THE  DEVELOPMENT  OF  ITALIAN 

INFLUENCE 


CHAPTER  III 

THE  DEVELOPMENT  OF  ITALIAN  INFLUENCE 

I 

PERIOD  OF  PHILIP  II 
(1 556-1 598) 

THE  second  half  of  the  sixteenth  century,  comprised  in  the  reign 
of  PhiHp  II,  is  notable,  on  the  one  hand,  for  the  influx  of 
Italian  painters  into  Spain,  and,  on  the  other,  for  the  excel- 
lence attained  under  Italian  influences  by  certain  painters  of  native 
birth,  though  many  of  them,  by  the  dryness  of  their  imitation  of 
Raphael  and  others,  are  known  as  "Mannerists." 

Philip  inherited  from  his  father  a  discriminating  love  of  the  arts 
and  lavished  a  generous  patronage  alike  on  architects,  sculptors,  and 
painters.  The  great  monimient  of  his  reign  was  the  Escorial,  built 
in  fulfilment  of  a  pledge  to  his  father  that  he  would  found  a  fitting 
mausoleum  for  the  Spanish  kings,  and  of  a  vow  to  Saint  Laurence, 
on  whose  festival  his  generals  won  the  battle  of  St.-Quentin.  Reared 
on  the  rock  terraces  of  the  Guadaramas,  the  stupendous  pile  is  at 
once  a  convent,  college,  palace,  church,  and  royal  mausoleum.  In 
contrast  to  the  profuse  ornamentation  of  the  "Plateresque"  style 
and  to  the  exaggeration  of  the  "Grotesque,"  the  design  is  in  the  se- 
verest simplicity  of  the  Greco-Roman.  The  planning  and  commence- 
ment were  the  work  of  Juan  Baptista  de  Toledo,  who  had  studied  in 
Rome  and  practised  his  art  in  Naples;  and  after  his  death,  in  1567, 

45 


46  OLD    SPANISH    MASTERS 

the  building  was  carried  to  completion  by  his  pupil  and  assistant, 
Juan  de  Herrera,  an  Asturian.  The  latter  is  said  to  have  been 
responsible  for  the  plan  of  the  church,  which  has  been  described  as 
one  of  the  happiest  examples  of  classical  architecture  adapted  for 
Christian  worship.  So  admirable  are  its  proportions,  that  St.  Peter's 
itself,  in  spite  of  its  unapproached  magnitude,  does  not  at  first  sight 
impress  the  mind  with  a  stronger  sense  of  its  vastness  or  awaken  a 
deeper  feeling  of  awe. 

For  the  embellishment  of  the  Escorial  the  Sierras  of  Spain  con- 
tributed marbles ;  the  mountains  of  Sicily  and  Sardinia,  jaspers  and 
agates;  Italy,  pictures  and  statues.  Madrid,  Florence,  and  Milan 
supplied  the  sculptures  of  the  altars;  Guadalajara  and  Cuenca, 
grilles,  and  balconies;  Toledo  and  the  Netherlands,  lamps,  cande- 
labra, and  bells ;  Zaragoza,  the  gates  of  brass ;  the  New  World,  the 
finer  woods,  and  the  Indies,  both  East  and  West,  the  gold  and  gems 
of  the  custodia  and  the  five  hundred  reliquaries.  The  tapestries  were 
wrought  on  Flemish  looms;  and  for  the  sacerdotal  vestments  the 
nunneries  of  the  empire,  from  the  rich  and  noble  orders  in  Brabant 
and  Lombardy  to  the  poor  sisterhoods  of  the  Apulian  hills,  sent  their 
gifts  of  needlework.  The  Escorial,  in  fact,  was  the  embodiment  of 
the  empire's  vastness,  and  a  treasure-house  of  its  arts  and  crafts. 
But  in  the  year  that  it  was  consecrated,  1595,  the  Spanish  arms  were 
disastrously  defeated  by  the  French  at  Fontaine  Franqaise;  and 
when,  three  years  later,  Philip  died,  he  left  the  empire  prostrated  al- 
most to  exhaustion.  Spain's  adventurous  spirit  had  bowed  to  the 
English  and  the  Dutch;  her  manhood  and  her  industries  had  been 
drained  by  foreign  wars,  and  all  that  despotism  and  fanaticism  had 
left  of  her  old,  high  enthusiasm  was  a  pride,  begotten  of  the  past. 

In  his  eagerness  to  secure  perfection  in  the  decorations  of  the 
Escorial,  Philip  was  inclined  to  overlook  the  merits  of  the  native 
painters  and  rely  upon  Italians.  Foremost  among  the  artists  rep- 
resented was  Titian,  while  the  most  famous  and  prolific  of  the 
decorators  was  the  Genoese,  Luca  Cambiaso.  Philip  also  welcomed 
to  his  court  the  Flemish  portrait-painter,  Antonio  Mor. 


c    ,*   •      c 

r    *«    »      * 


MADONNA   AND   CHILD.      BV   LUIS   DE   MORALES. 


BOSCH  COLLECTION.    MADRIU. 


II 

LUIS  MORALES 

Meanwhile  the  native  school  was  becoming  thoroughly  Italian- 
ized. The  most  renowned  representative  of  Castile  during  this 
period  was  Luis  Morales  ( 1 509-1 586).  He  was  called  by  his  coun- 
trymen "El  Divino,"  in  recognition  not  only  of  the  devout  character 
of  his  pictures  but  of  the  unaccustomed  charm  of  his  style.  For  next 
to  Alonzo  Berruguete,  who  was  really  more  architect  and  sculptor 
than  painter,  he  was  the  earliest  of  the  sixteenth-century  painters 
who  enriched  Spanish  art  with  something  of  Florentine  skill  of 
drawing  and  Venetian  beauty  of  color.  Nor  was  he  a  mere  imitator 
of  the  Italian  manner,  as  most  of  the  Spaniards  of  this  period  be- 
came. Morales'  style,  though  marked  by  a  close  truth  to  nature 
and  by  painter-like  qualities  that  suggest  the  influence  of  Italy,  was 
nevertheless  a  personal  one.  Whence  he  derived  it  is  not  known,  for 
he  lived  and  worked  in  obscurity  and  the  records  concerning  him  are 
meager. 

He  seems  to  have  been  bom  about  1509,  at  Badajoz,  in  the  prov- 
ince of  Estremadura.  Nearly  half  a  century  later  there  appears  in 
the  register  of  the  cathedral  of  Frexenal,  a  small  town  on  the  Anda- 
lusian  border,  an  entry,  dated  November,  1554,  recording  the  bap- 
tism of  his  son  Cristobal,  and  mentioning  his  wife's  name,  Leonora 
de  Chaves.  About  1565  he  was  commanded  by  Philip  II  to  repair  to 
Madrid  to  paint  some  pictures  for  the  Escorial,  which  had  just  been 
commenced.  Palomino  relates  that  he  appeared  at  court  in  magnifi- 
cent attire,  and  that  the  king,  displeased  at  his  ostentation,  ordered 

47 


48  OLD    SPANISH    MASTERS 

him  to  be  paid  a  sum  of  money  and  dismissed.  However,  Morales 
made  his  peace  with  Philip  by  explaining  that  he  had  spent  all  he 
possessed  in  order  to  appear  in  a  manner  befitting  the  dignity  of  his 
majesty.  The  explanation  served,  but  he  seems  to  have  painted  only 
one  picture  during  his  residence  at  court,  a  "Christ  Going  to  Cal- 
vary," which  was  presented  by  the  king  to  the  church  of  the  Jerony- 
mites  at  Madrid.  After  this  he  probably  returned  to  Estremadura, 
and  the  next  notice  of  him  is  another  entry  in  the  archives  of  the 
cathedral  of  Frexenal,  recording  that  he  had  sold  for  one  hundred 
ducats  some  vineyards  which  he  possessed  in  the  neighborhood  of 
Merida.  For,  as  old  age  crept  upon  him,  with  failing  eyesight,  he 
lost  the  steadiness  of  his  hand,  and  fell  into  extreme  poverty. 

In  1 581  the  king  paid  a  visit  to  Badajoz,  and  Morales  appeared 
before  him,  in  a  condition  very  different  from  that  in  which  he  had 
first  courted  the  royal  favor.  "You  are  very  old,  Morales,"  said  the 
king.  "Yes,  sire,  and  very  poor,"  replied  the  painter.  Turning  to 
his  treasurer  the  king  ordered  that  a  pension  of  200  ducats  be  paid 
out  of  the  crown  rents  to  the  old  man,  "for  his  dinner."  "And  for 
supper,  sire?"  interposed  Morales.  The  begging  jest  was  awarded 
with  another  hundred  ducats.  Morales,  after  enjoying  his  pension 
for  five  years,  died  in  1586.  Badajoz  has  honored  his  memory  by 
naming  after  him  the  street  in  which  he  lived. 

These  scant  details  throw  practically  no  light  on  the  question  of 
how  Morales  learned  to  invest  religious  sentiment  with  the  beauty  of 
Italian  expression.  The  only  suggestion  they  aflford  is  that  during 
his  stay  in  Madrid  he  probably  had  an  opportunity  of  studying  the 
pictures  in  the  Royal  Gallery.  But  he  must  already  have  manifested 
some  superiority  of  style,  otherwise,  living  as  he  did  in  the  remote 
wilds  of  Estremadura,  he  would  scarcely  have  received  a  summons  to 
court.  Moreover,  the  fact  which  Mr.  Cole  mentions  of  an  existing 
copy  by  Morales,  of  one  of  Michelangelo's  pictures,  while  it  may 
supply  a  hint  of  how  he  acquired  correctness  of  drawing  and  the 
power  of  expressing  sentiment  by  gesture,  will  not  explain  the  deli- 
cacy of  feeling  of  the  "Mother  and  Child,"  here  reproduced.  This 
picture,  however,  is  an  exceptional  instance  of  refinement  of  style 


THE   DEVELOPMENT    OF    ITALIAN    LNFLUENCE  49 

and  feeling.  The  other  example  which  Mr.  Cole  has  engraved  is 
rather  to  be  characterized  as  filled  with  a  lovable  devoutness.  Nor 
was  the  devoutness  of  Morales  always  lovable.  His  "Ecce  Homo" 
and  "  Mater  Dolorosa"  are  lamentable  caricatures  which  show  to 
what  a  depth  the  taste  of  the  period  had  sunk.  They  have  been  at- 
tributed to  his  later  years. 

But  may  not  such  subjects  have  also  been  the  work  of  his  early 
years ;  products  of  his  own  piety,  tinged  with  the  austerities  of  the 
obscure  life  he  lived  in  the  little  hill-parishes  of  Estremadura  ?  And 
may  it  not  have  been  his  reputation  for  just  such  dolorous  subjects 
that  attracted  Philip,  "the  cloistered  king  and  sceptred  monk"? 
Then,  when  Morales,  in  the  Royal  Galleries,  came  face  to  face  with 
the  Italian  masterpieces,  it  may  well  have  been  that  the  artist  in  him 
was  awakened;  that  he  realized  that  painting  had  a  mission  of  its 
own,  that  it  was  not  merely  an  interpreter  of  Christian  faith,  but  an 
independent  means  of  reaching  the  human  heart  through  beauty. 

This  at  least  was  the  kind  of  awakening  that  must  have  come  to 
many  of  the  Spanish  painters  of  the  sixteenth  century,  and  it  is  not 
unreasonable  to  suppose  that  it  represents  the  experience  of  Morales. 
The  native  characteristic  of  the  Spaniards,  derived  possibly  from  the 
tradition  of  Flemish  pictures,  was  to  take  nature  as  a  model  and  to 
study  its  actual  appearance.  It  needed  only  a  man  with  a  clearer- 
seeing  eye  and  a  more  facile  hand  than  his  fellows,  to  discover  for 
himself  the  principles  of  correct  drawing.  It  is  not  unjust  to  assume 
that  Morales  was  such  a  man.  And  there  is  confirmation,  perhaps, 
of  this  in  his  tendency  to  see  too  much  of  detail  and  to  over-elaborate 
the  little  effects.  Such  a  tendency  could  scarcely  have  been  the  result 
of  a  study  of  Michelangelo,  or  the  Venetian  masterpieces;  it  is  essen- 
tially a  characteristic  of  primitive  schools  and  self-taught  painters. 
It  is  also  particularly  dear  to  the  popular  taste.  And  Morales,  while 
in  his  early  work  securing  detail  in  his  own  search  after  truth,  may 
in  his  after-life  have  been  compelled  by  his  patrons,  against  his  own 
matured  taste,  to  sacrifice  the  large  significance  of  truth  to  pettiness 
of  observation  and  rendering.  And  the  beauty  that  he  had  learned 
from  Italian  pictures  may  have  seemed  to  the  simple-minded  clerics 


50 


OLD  SPANISH  MASTERS 


of  Estremadura  very  mundane,  calculated  to  enamor  the  people  of 
the  joys  of  life  rather  than  to  elevate  their  imaginations  above  the 
things  of  this  world. 

In  fact,  in  the  scattered  glimpses  that  one  gets  of  Morales'  art 
here  and  there  of  so  matured  a  feeling  for  beauty,  otherwise  so 
esthetically  barren,  so  Gothic  in  its  extravagant  intensity,  the  imagi- 
nation readily  perceives  a  type  of  the  man  born  before  his  time, 
laboring  amid  inauspicious  conditions,  compelled  to  serve  a  public 
that  was  unable  to  appreciate  his  best  and  clamored  for  what  his  own 
taste  condemned. 


NOTES  BY  THE  ENGRAVER 


AMONG  the  few  of  Spain's  great- 
Jr\.  est  artists  Morales  is  reckoned 
first  in  chronological  order.  In  point 
of  merit  he  occupies  a  position  analo- 
gous, perhaps,  to  that  of  Perugino 
among  the  Italians.  He  is  called  by 
his  countrymen  "the  Divine,"  not 
only  from  his  having  painted  none 
other  than  sacred  subjects,  but  from 
the  exquisite  feeling  with  which  he 
imbued  them,  and  also  because  of 
their  wonderful  grace  and  delicacy 
of  finish.  And  in  this  respect  they 
are  remarkable. 

His  subjects  were  always  devo- 
tional, sad,  and  sublime  in  conception 
and  expression.  He  lingered  lov- 
ingly and  long  over  each  with  the 
fond  and  fastidious  care  of  the  early 
Flemings,  working  them  up  to  a  very 
high  degree  of  finish,  which  fact  may 
account  for  the  scarcity  of  his  works. 
His  hair,  for  instance,  is  elaborated 
so  that  each  separate  ringlet,  curling 
like  the  little  rings  of  the  vine,  is  visi- 
ble,   and    yet    it    is    evident    he    was 


careful  that  the  whole  as  a  mass 
should  not  suffer.  His  coloring,  like- 
wise, though  in  many  of  his  works  it 
is  sober  and  often  cold  and  grayish, 
in  his  best  and  well-preserved  exam- 
ples is  wonderful  for  brilliancy, 
warmth,  and  richness.  He  painted 
always  upon  panels,  laid  with  a  gesso 
ground  in  the  manner  that  was  gen- 
eral with  the  early  Florentines  and 
Flemings,  whom  he  resembles  not 
only  in  his  coloring  but  in  the  clean- 
ness and  decision  of  his  drawing.  It 
is  not  known  that  he  had  any  teacher, 
it  being  believed  that  his  knowledge 
of  art  was  entirely  self-acquired, 
though  there  were  many  Flemish  and 
Italian  artists  in  Spain  in  his  day,  and 
the  fact  of  his  painting  upon  panels 
prepared  in  the  same  way  as  was  cus- 
tomary with  these  artists  points 
strongly  to  the  assumption  that  his 
knowledge  of  other  matters  of  art 
came  from  the  same  source.  He  ben- 
efited doubtless  in  his  youth  by  the  in- 
structions   of    traveled    artists,    and 


•  •• 

•  *      *       ••••*      ,. 

•  ••.  •      •  •.   •   •  .   •    •  •  • 

•• :  •. :  •: :. 


MAliU.N.NA   ui     lilL  LIllLL   lUKU.     1;V    1.116  111.  iluUAi.tii. 

IN    THK  lOUaCTfUX  or    THK   UAUt/t(.S  UK  RP-UtHA,    UAItHtll. 


THE  DEVELOPMENT  OF  ITALIAN  INFLUENCE 


51 


may  have  numbered  among  the  schol- 
ars of  Berruguctc,  the  foremost  ar- 
tist of  that  time  in  Spain,  who  studied 
in  Italy  under  Michelangelo,  and  to 
whom  all  that  was  good  in  painting 
and  sculpture  between  1500  and  1560 
was  attributed.  In  confirmation  of 
this  last  supposition  there  exists  in  a 
convent  of  nuns  at  fivora,  in  Portugal, 
a  copy  from  a  picture  by  Michelan- 
gelo, made  by  Morales,  of  Christ  on 
the  cross,  with  the  Virgin  and  St. 
John  at  the  foot,  which  for  a  long 
time  used  to  be  thought  an  original 
work  by  the  great  Florentine.  Noth- 
ing is  certain,  however,  except  that 
Morales  far  excelled  any  painter  who 
could  possibly  have  been  his  instruc- 
tor. 

But,  speaking  of  the  Madonnas  by 
Morales,  Sir  William  Stirling-Max- 
well is  not  sufficiently  informed  when 
he  tells  us  that  "the  Virgin  whom  he 
offers  to  the  contemplation  of  the 
pious  is  never  the  fair  young  mother 
gazing  on  the  beauty  of  her  Babe 
Divine,  but  the  drooping  Mater  Dolo- 
rosa, wan  and  weary  with  unuttera- 
ble anguish."  There  are  several  ex- 
amples of  the  fair  young  mother 
sweetly  gazing  on  the  babe  at  her 
bosom — here  in  the  Madrid  Museum, 
and  one  in  the  Lisbon  gallery.  But 
undoubtedly  the  most  beautiful  ex- 
ample of  this  kind,  and  one  which  is 
a  masterpiece  in  every  respect,  by  the 
artist,  is  the  "Mother  and  Child" 
in  the  collection  of  Seiior  Pablo 
Bosch  of  Madrid.  This,  besides 
being  well  preserved,  has  all  the 
finest  qualities  of  Morales— his  mar- 
velous brilliancy  of  coloring,  ex- 
quisite finish,  and  cleanness  and  deci- 
sion of  drawing.  I  had  been  work- 
ing for  more  than  a  fortnight  on  a 
somewhat  similar  subject,  then  lately 
acquired     by     the     Madrid     gallery. 


when,  by  good  forttme,  I  suddenly  en- 
countered this  beautiful  panel  in  the 
house  of  its  owner,  and  it  seemed  to 
me  then  that  the  veil  had  been  lifted 
and  I  beheld  Morales  in  all  his  splen- 
dor. As  Seiior  Bosch  generously 
oflFered  to  let  me  engrave  it,  I  forth- 
with set  about  it,  giving  no  more 
thought  to  the  previous  subject.  Sc- 
nor  Bosch  tells  me  that  he  obtained  it 
from  the  heirs  of  a  certain  old  deacon 
who  lived  at  Avila,  in  Estremadura, 
who,  during  his  life,  kept  it  in  his 
bedroom  and  would  not  part  with  it 
for  any  consideration. 

"The  Madonna  of  the  Little 
Bird"  is  cited  by  Cean  Bermu- 
dez,  in  his  "Diccionario  Historico," 
as  existing  in  the  Parroquia  de  la 
Concepcion,  in  Badajoz,  Spain.  It 
is  now  the  property  of  Seiiorita 
Maria  Moret  y  Remisa,  and  is  in  the 
collection  of  the  Marques  de  Remisa 
at  Madrid.  I  am  indebted  to  Seiior 
de  Beniete  of  Madrid,  son-in-law  of 
the  marquis,  for  this  infonnation,  and 
for  the  access  to  the  painting. 

It  is  a  large  work,  probably  the 
largest  by  Morales  in  existence, 
measuring  seven  feet  high  by  five 
feet  four  and  a  quarter  inches  wide, 
and  the  figures  are  larger  than  life. 
It  was  painted  on  wood,  but  the  mar- 
quis had  it  transferred  to  canvas — a 
very  delicate  operation,  which  con- 
sisted of  gluing  many  sheets  of  paper 
over  the  surface,  then  chiseling  away 
the  wood  from  the  back  until  the 
ground  of  the  painting  was  reached, 
when  the  whole  was  mounted  with 
white  lead  upon  canvas,  and  the  sur- 
face relieved  of  its  protective  cover- 
ing of  paper.  The  result  was  per- 
fectly successful. 

The  colors,  by  time,  have  slightly 
faded,  but  the  picture  is  still  remark- 
ably well   preserved.    The   Madonna 


52 


OLD  SPANISH  MASTERS 


and  Child  are  seated  upon  a  rock  in 
the  open,  and  behind  them  is  hung  a 
heavy  drapery  from  a  tree,  forming  a 
dark  and  tender  background.  This 
in  color  is  a  deep  lake  of  a  maroon 
cast.  The  white  robe  of  the  Virgin 
is  shot  with  purple  in  the  shades  of 
the  folds,  and  the  overgarment  is  a 
deep,  rich  blue.  There  is  a  very  deli- 
cate veil  about  her  golden  hair,  which 
is  scarcely  visible  as  it  falls  over  her 
breast. 

The   effect  of   light  and   shade   is 
simple  and  striking,  and  the  grace  of 


the  Madonna's  pose,  as  well  as  the 
sweetness  of  her  cheerful  expression, 
cannot  fail  to  impress  one.  The 
lower  portion  of  the  face  has  tender- 
ness and  innocence,  but  the  eyes, 
from  their  fullness  and  heaviness,  are 
inclined  to  be  voluptuous.  This  full 
eyelid  is  reminiscent  of  the  Italians 
— of  Da  Vinci  and  Correggio.  From 
the  cheerfulness  of  this  subject  it  will 
be  seen  that  Morales  did  not  confine 
himself  to  doleful  themes,  as  is  gen- 
erally supposed  by  writers. 

T.  C. 


Ill 

OTHER  PAINTERS  OF  THE  SCHOOL  OF  CASTILE 

In  his  own  day  scarcely  less  famous  than  Morales  was  Juan  Fernan- 
dez Navarrete,  known  as  "El  Mudo,"  the  dumb  painter.  Born  at 
Logrono,  in  Navarre,  in  1526,  he  was  attacked  in  his  third  year  by 
an  acute  disorder  which  deprived  him  of  his  hearing  and  conse- 
quently of  the  faculty  of  speech.  In  his  efforts  as  a  child  to  make 
himself  understood,  he  made  sketches  in  chalk  or  charcoal,  and  so 
taught  himself  to  draw  as  other  children  learn  to  speak.  Taking  ad- 
vantage of  this  natural  bent,  his  father  placed  him  in  a  monastery  of 
the  Jeronymites,  under  the  care  of  one  of  the  monks  who  had  some 
knowledge  of  painting.  Later  he  spent  some  years  in  Italy,  visiting 
Florence,  Rome,  Naples,  and  Milan,  and  studying  for  a  time,  it  is 
said,  in  the  school  of  Titian  in  Venice.  News  of  his  progress  reached 
Philip,  who  invited  him  to  Madrid  and  appointed  him  one  of  the 
royal  painters.  As  a  specimen  of  his  abilities  he  had  brought  with 
him  a  small  picture  of  "Our  Lord's  Baptism,"  "admirably  painted," 
says  Cean  Bermudez,  "though  in  a  style  different  from  that  which 
he  afterward  followed."  It  was  probably,  like  others  of  his  early 
pictures,  painted  after  the  style  of  the  "mannerists,"  in  imitation  of 
Raphael's,  whereas  his  later  works,  nineteen  of  which  still  exist  in 
the  Escorial,  show  how  well  he  had  profited  by  the  example  of  Titian. 
Indeed,  he  is  known  in  Spain  as  the  Spanish  Titian.  He  died  in 
1579,  and  was  buried  in  the  Church  of  San  Juan  de  los  Reyes,  in 
Toledo. 

It  is  related  that  when  Titian's  celebrated  picture,  the  "Last  Sup- 

53 


54  OLD    SPANISH    MASTERS 

per,"  arrived  at  the  Escorial,  it  was  found  to  be  too  large  for  its  in- 
tended space  on  the  refectory  wall,  whereupon  the  king  gave  orders 
for  it  to  be  cut.  But  El  Mudo,  horrified  at  the  outrage,  made  signs 
that  at  the  risk  of  his  head  he  would  complete  a  copy  of  the  desired 
size  in  six  months.  But  Philip  was  too  impatient  to  wait,  and  the 
"Cena"  was  mutilated.  Indeed,  it  was  not  until  after  his  death  that 
the  king  fully  understood  El  Mudo's  worth.  When,  however,  he  had 
been  disappointed  at  the  achievements  of  some  of  the  foreign  paint- 
ers, such  as  Zuccaro,  engaged  at  immense  cost,  he  used  to  declare 
that  among  all  his  Italian  artists  there  was  none  who  could  equal  the 
dumb  Spaniard. 

Another  able  painter,  also  a  Toledian,  was  Bias  del  Prado.  There 
is  some  doubt  as  to  the  date  of  his  birth,  but  it  probably  occurred 
about  1540.  He  was  a  follower  of  Alonzo  Berrugnete  and  like  Gas- 
paro  Becerra,  another  of  the  school,  belongs  rather  with  the  "man- 
nerists," though  his  pictures  were  highly  esteemed  by  his  contem- 
poraries. His  principal  works  were  executed  in  connection  with 
Luis  de  Carbajal  for  the  chapter  of  Toledo  Cathedral.  In  the  Acad- 
emy of  Saint  Ferdinand  in  Madrid,  he  is  represented  by  a  "Virgin 
and  Child,"  and  in  the  Prado  by  a  still  finer  example,  in  which  the 
Virgin,  Infant,  and  Saint  Joseph  are  attended  by  Saint  John  and 
Saint  Ildefonso,  and  adored  by  Alfonso  de  Villegas,  the  historian  of 
the  calendar,  who  was  probably  the  donor  of  the  picture.  There  is 
something  of  the  charm  of  Andrea  del  Sarto  in  the  expression  of  the 
Virgin,  while  the  head  of  Saint  Joseph  is  raphaelesque. 

In  1573  the  emperor  of  Morocco  applied  to  Philip  II  for  the  loan 
of  a  painter.  The  king  replied  that  in  Spain  there  were  two  sorts  of 
painters,  the  ordinary  and  indifferent,  and  desired  to  know  which 
his  majesty  preferred.  "Kings  should  always  have  the  best,"  replied 
the  Moor,  and  accordingly  Bias  del  Prado  was  despatched  to  Fez. 
There  he  painted  various  works  for  the  palace  and  a  portrait  of  the 
emperor's  daughter.  His  services  were  so  well  recompensed  that  he 
returned  to  Toledo  a  rich  man.  His  death  probably  occurred  in 
1600. 

The  first  of  the  great  Spanish  portrait-painters  of  Castile  was 


THE  DEVELOPMENT  OF  ITALIAN  INFLUENCE    55 

Alonso  Sanchez  Coello.  Nothing  is  known  of  his  early  history,  but 
he  appears  to  have  formed  his  style  on  Italian  models,  because  he  left 
several  careful  and  excellent  copies  of  works  by  Titian.  However, 
he  certainly  owed  much  to  Mor,  whom  he  accompanied  in  1552  to 
Lisbon,  where  he  entered  the  service  of  Don  Juan  of  Portugal.  Upon 
the  latter's  death,  his  widow,  the  Spanish  Infanta  Juana,  recom- 
mended him  to  her  brother,  Philip  II.  Mor,  having  left  the  king's 
service  for  some  reason  that  has  not  been  cleared  up,  Coello  was  apn 
pointed  painter-in-ordinary  and  became  to  Philip  II  what  Velasquez 
was  to  be  to  the  Fourth  Philip.  He  was  lodged  in  the  treasury  build- 
ings, adjoining  the  palace  and  connected  with  it  by  a  private  door, 
of  which  the  king  kept  the  key.  Philip  was  wont  to  call  him  his  Por- 
tuguese Titian,  and,  when  absent  on  some  royal  progress,  without 
the  companionship  of  his  favorite,  would  write  to  him  as  his  "beloved 
son  Alonso  Sanchez  Coello."  He  was  a  favorite  also  of  the  whole 
royal  household  and  the  court,  while  the  Popes,  Gregory  XIII  and 
Sixtus  V,  Cardinal  Alexander  Farnese,  and  the  dukes  of  Florence 
and  Savoy,  bestowed  on  him  marks  of  favor.  "Seventeen  royal  per- 
sonages," says  Pacheco,  "honored  him  with  their  esteem,  and  would 
sometimes  recreate  and  refresh  themselves  under  his  roof,  with  his 
wife  and  children." 

He  painted  the  king  many  times,  both  on  foot  and  on  horseback, 
but  these  and  many  others  of  his  portraits  perished  in  the  fire  of  the 
Prado.  In  the  present  Museo  is  his  portrait  of  the  Infanta  Don  Car- 
los, the  pathetic  hero  of  Schiller's  tragedy.  He  appears  in  this  pic- 
ture as  a  youth  of  seventeen  or  eighteen  years ;  but  without  any  sug- 
gestion of  deficient  intellect.  It  will  be  remembered  that  he  was  of 
a  violent  temper,  and  distrusted  by  his  father ;  that  having  attacked 
the  Duke  of  Alva  with  a  poniard,  he  was  handed  over  to  the  In- 
quisition, which  pronounced  him  guilty;  and  that  he  died  mys- 
teriously a  few  months  later,  in  his  twenty-third  year.  Here  he  has 
the  pallid  features,  the  cold  g^ay  eye  and  suspicious  and  dissatisfied 
expression  that  is  characteristic  of  the  early  portraits  of  Philip  by 
Titian.  Beside  this  "Don  Carlos"  hangs  the  portrait  of  his  half-sis- 
ter, the  Infanta  Isabel  Clara  Eugenia,  afterward  that  resolute  arch- 


56  OLD    SPANISH    MASTERS 

duchess  of  the  Netherlands  whose  Hnen,  unchanged  during  the  three 
years'  siege  of  Ostend,  gave  the  name  to  the  tawny  tint  known  to 
the  French  dyers  as  the  "coleur  Isabelle."  Coello  has  represented 
her  about  the  age  of  her  half-brother,  and  with  a  face  and  expression 
strongly  resembling  her  father's,  who  loved  her  above  all  his  chil- 
dren and  spoke  of  her  on  his  death-bed  as  the  "light  and  mirror  of 
his  eyes."  Coello's  portraits  are  distinguished  by  the  air  of  refine- 
ment which  he  imparted  to  the  heads  and  by  a  Flemish-like  skill  and 
patience  in  the  rendering  of  the  costumes  and  jewelry.  He  died  in 
1590,  leaving  many  pupils,  among  whom  the  best  was  Juan  Pantoja 
de  la  Cruz.  The  Hispano-Greek  painter,  Domenico  Theotocopuli, 
called  "El  Greco,"  will  be  considered  in  a  later  chapter. 


IV 

PAINTERS  OF  THE  SCHOOL  OF  ANDALUSIA 

Andalusia,  during  the  second  half  of  the  sixteenth  century,  pro- 
duced one  of  those  rare  examples  of  versatility  of  genius,  which, 
spread  over  many  fields  of  intellectual  enterprise,  stimulated  the  gen- 
eral culture  of  the  period.  This  was  Pablo  de  Cespedes,  known  in 
Italy  as  Paolo  de  Cordoba,  from  the  place  of  his  birth,  which  oc- 
curred in  1538.  His  parents,  originally  of  good  Castilian  stock,  gave 
him  a  "learned  education,"  which  he  supplemented  by  the  study  of 
Oriental  languages.  Engaged  in  the  service  of  the  Inquisition,  he 
spent  many  years  in  Rome,  during  which  he  obtained  instruction  in 
painting  from  one  of  Michelangelo's  pupils  and  also  distinguished 
himself  in  sculpture.  At  the  same  time,  by  travel  in  various  parts  of 
Italy,  he  made  him.self  familiar  with  the  works  of  modern  art  and 
with  the  remains  of  antiquity. 

In  1577  he  returned  to  Italy  to  assume  the  position,  conferred 
upon  him  by  the  Pope,  of  a  canonry  in  the  cathedral  of  Cordoba.  Be- 
tween this  city  and  Seville,  where  he  spent  his  vacations,  the  rest  of 
his  life  was  divided.  In  the  intervals  of  his  official  duties  he  found 
time  to  practise  architecture,  sculpture,  and  painting,  to  compose 
poetry,  and  a  "Discourse  of  Modem  Painting  and  Sculpture,"  and 
to  engage  in  archaeological  researches.  He  thus  became  a  potent 
factor  in  stimulating  and  directing  the  .spirit  of  culture  for  which 
Seville  was  already  famous  and  was  to  be  yet  more  distinguished  in 
the  following  century.  Of  his  painting  examples  still  exist  in  the 
cathedral  of  Cordoba,  and  in  the  Chapter  House  and  Contaduria 
Mayor  of  the  cathedral  of  Seville.  They  show  him  to  have  been  a 
•  S7 


58  OLD    SPANISH    MASTERS 

good  colorist,  influenced  by  the  manner  of  Correggio,  and  help  to 
confirm  the  tradition  that  it  was  from  Cespedes  that  the  painters  of 
Seville  learned  the  fine  tones  of  their  flesh  tints.  He  died  in  1625, 
at  the  advanced  age  of  eighty-seven. 

But,  if  Cespedes  showed  the  way,  it  was  another  cleric  painter, 
Juan  de  las  Roelas,  who  finally  headed  of?  the  school  of  Andalusia 
from  the  afifectations  of  the  mannerists  and  set  it  firmly  on  the  path 
which  led  to  the  triumphs  of  the  next  century.  He  brought  it  to  the 
study  of  life,  of  color,  and  of  chiaroscuro.  Born  in  1555  or  1560,  at 
Seville,  of  an  illustrious  family,  he  received  a  university  education 
and  then  proceeded  to  the  degree  of  licentiate,  receiving  in  1603  a 
prebendal  stall  in  the  Collegiate  Church  at  Olivares,  a  town  in  the 
neighborhood  of  Seville.  Thirteen  years  later  he  was  an  unsuccess- 
ful candidate  for  the  post  of  a  painter  at  court.  He  remained,  how- 
ever, at  Madrid,  for  three  years,  after  which  he  returned  to  Seville, 
and  lived  there  until  within  a  year  of  his  death,  which  occurred  at 
Olivares  in  1625. 

His  broad,  free,  and  yet  soft,  drawing;  light  and  warm  key  of 
color,  and  yellowish  brown  tones  have  led  to  the  supposition  that  he 
studied  in  Venice;  but  of  this  there  is  no  record.  His  finest  work  is 
the  great  altarpiece  in  the  Church  of  St.  Isidoro  in  Seville,  repre- 
senting "The  Transit"  or  death  of  the  saint.  "Clad  in  his  vestments 
and  a  dark  mantle,  the  prelate  kneels,  expiring  in  the  arms  of  a 
group  of  venerable  priests,  whose  snowy  heads  and  beards  are  finely 
relieved  against  the  youthful  bloom  of  two  kneeling  choir-boys.  The 
background  shows  the  vista  of  an  aisle,  crowded  with  sorrowing 
people,  while  overhead  in  a  blaze  of  light  appear  Our  Lord  and  the 
Virgin,  amidst  a  hovering  band  of  angels.  In  beauty  of  design, 
depth  of  feeling,  and  richness  of  color,  the  picture  is  worthy  of  the 
devotion  that  inspired  it ;  and  in  its  sureness  of  touch  and  powerful 
rendering  of  Spanish  character-types  was  not  surpassed  by  Roelas's 
great  pupil,  Zurbaran.  Moreover,  the  choir  of  singing  and  playing 
angels  is  filled  with  an  Andalusian  gaiety,  not  unworthy  of  the 
angelic  concerts  of  Murillo."  Other  fine  works  of  Roelas  are  in  the 
museum  and  the  university  chapel  of  Seville. 


SCHOOL  OF  VALENCIA 

In  the  school  of  Valencia  the  first  painter  to  exhibit  a  mastery  of 
the  "broad  manner"  of  the  Italians  was  Francisco  de  Ribalta,  whose 
style  was  perpetuated  by  his  son,  Juan  Ribalta.  The  father,  born 
probably  in  1551,  worked  with  some  unknown  master  in  Valencia 
where  he  imbibed  the  strong  religious  feeling  that  characterized  the 
painting  of  that  province.  He  then  visited  Italy,  studying  particu- 
larly, it  would  appear,  the  works  of  Raphael  and  Correggio,  follow- 
ing the  latter  in  the  way  that  the  contemporary  school  of  Bologna, 
of  the  Carracci,  was  going.  After  his  return  home  he  attracted  the 
notice  of  the  pious  archbishop,  Juan  de  Ribera,  and  became  the  most 
admired  painter  in  Valencia,  whose  churches  and  religious  houses 
teemed  with  examples  of  his  industry  and  ability.  The  chapel  of  the 
College  of  Corpus  Christi  still  contains  his  "Last  Supper" ;  the  mu- 
seum of  Valencia,  a  considerable  number  of  his  works;  the  finest, 
"Our  Lady  of  Sorrows,"  whose  bosom  is  pierced  with  the  seven  em- 
blematic swords.  The  Virgin's  head  is  expressive  of  grief  and  res- 
ignation ;  before  her  on  a  table  are  spread  the  instruments  of  Our 
Saviour's  Passion,  while  in  the  foreground  St.  Ignatius  Loyala  and 
St.  Veronica  kneel  in  adoration.  Behind  them,  also  kneeling,  are 
groups  of  penitents,  male  and  female,  of  whom  the  latter,  with  the 
exception  of  one  girl,  are  old  and  ugly.  His  figures,  indeed,  are 
usually  big-boned  and  muscular,  and  often  rude  and  coarse  in  type, 
in  which  he  is  very  different  to  Correggio,  whose  violent  attitudes 
and  foreshortenings,  however,  he  occasionally  followed.    It  is  in  the 

59 


6o  OLD    SPANISH    MASTERS 

use  of  chiaroscuro  that  he  came  nearest  to  the  beauty  of  his  exem- 
plar, employing  it  to  give  plastic  roundness  to  the  figures,  and  to 
fuse  the  colors  into  tone.  Ribalta  died  in  1628,  so  that  his  life,  as 
those  of  some  of  the  other  painters  of  the  period,  passes  over  into 
the  reign  of  Philip  III. 


CONCLUSION  OF  ITALIAN 
INFLUENCE 


CHAPTER  IV 

CONCLUSION    OF    ITALIAN    INFLUENCE 

I 

PERIOD  OF  PHILIP  III 
(1598-1621) 

PHILIP  III,  an  easy-going  man,  inherited  some  of  his  father's 
taste  but  was  wholly  destitute  of  his  energy  and  talent.  Averse 
to,  and  incapable  of,  the  cares  of  state ;  born  to  be  ruled  rather 
than  to  rule,  as  his  father  used  to  say  of  him,  he  helped  on  the  deca- 
dence of  his  country.  The  most  notable  act  of  his  reign,  at  once  a 
crime  and  a  blunder,  was  the  expulsion  of  the  Moors,  by  which  the 
cities  were  drained  of  a  large  number  of  their  thriftiest  and  most  in- 
dustrious citizens,  and  the  economic  exhaustion  of  the  country  was 
precipitated.  The  royal  initiative  being  weakened,  the  power  of  the 
noble  families  was  correspondingly  increased,  so  that  a  character- 
istic of  the  period  is  the  building  of  many  private  palaces  and  the 
forming  of  collections  of  works  of  art  by  individual  nobles.  Thus 
the  weak  and  amiable  Cardinal-Duke  of  Lerma,  who  enjoyed  the 
king's  confidence,  erected  in  the  town  of  Lerma  in  Old  Castile  a  huge 
square  pile,  esteemed  by  some  Spaniards  next  in  magnificence  to  the 
Escorial,  which  it  somewhat  resembled  in  architecture. 

The  king,  who,  even  in  the  selection  of  his  wife,  refused  to  have 
any  choice,  langfuidly  continued  the  embellishment  of  the  royal  pal- 
aces, retaining  in  his  service  the  painters  who  had  been  appointed  by 

«9 


64  OLD    SPANISH    MASTERS 

his  father.  The  only  new  ones  of  note  whom  he  personally  engaged 
were  Vincenzio  Carducho  and  Eugenio  Caxes.  The  former  was  by 
birth  a  Florentine,  but  had  been  brought  by  his  brother,  Bartolomeo, 
to  Madrid,  in  1585,  as  a  child,  and  reckoned  himself  a  Castilian.  He 
learned  his  art  in  the  Escorial  under  the  instruction  of  his  brother, 
at  whose  death  he  succeeded  to  his  place.  Although  much  employed 
in  the  royal  palaces,  he  found  time  to  work  for  the  church,  and 
gained  especial  renown  for  his  series  of  fifty-four  large  pictures, 
originally  painted  for  the  Carthusian  monastery  at  El  Paular,  but 
now  in  the  Prado.  Thirty-six  of  those  scenes  represent  the  life  of 
St.  Bruno,  from  his  conversion  in  Notre  Dame,  while  attending  the 
funeral  of  Raymond,  who  announced  from  his  bier  the  fact  of  his 
own  damnation,  until  the  close  of  his  saintly  career  in  the  wilds  of 
Calabria.  The  two  compositions  on  the  death  of  Bruno  are  full  of 
grace  and  feeling  and  abound  in  noble  heads.  Among  the  pictures 
that  treat  of  his  followers,  are  three  very  striking  subjects  of  the 
sufferings  endured  by  the  English  Carthusians  during  the  Reforma- 
tion. In  two  of  these  the  scene  is  a  prison  with  emaciated  monks, 
dead  or  dying,  chained  to  pillars,  while  through  the  doors  are  views 
of  Catholic  martyrs  in  the  hands  of  Protestant  tormentors.  In  the 
third,  three  Carthusians  are  being  dragged  to  execution  on  a  hurdle ; 
a  man  lashes  the  horses  to  a  gallop,  and  some  spectators  mockingly 
point  to  the  distant  gallows.  These  paintings,  apart  from  extrav- 
agances incidental  to  the  legend,  viewed  simply  as  works  of  skill  and 
imagination,  exhibit  a  vigor  of  fancy,  power  of  execution,  and  rich 
coloring,  that  vindicate  the  high  esteem  in  which  Carducho  was  held 
by  his  contemporaries.  In  1633  he  increased  his  reputation  by  pub- 
lishing his  "Dialogues  on  Painting,"  which  have  earned  him  a  no- 
table position  among  Spanish  writers  on  art.  His  services  were  con- 
tinued by  Philip  IV,  and,  though  he  was  superseded  in  the  royal 
preference  by  Velasquez,  he  seems  to  have  borne  no  grudge.  He 
died  in  1638. 

His  colleague  in  several  important  works,  Eugenio  Caxes,  was 
born  at  Madrid  in  1577.  He  was  the  son  of  a  pupil  of  Patricio 
Caxes,  or  Caxesi,  an  Italian  painter  in  the  service  of  Philip  II.  With 


CONCLUSION    OF    ITALIAN    INFLUENCE  65 

his  father  he  was  employed  by  Philip  III  in  decorating  the  ceiling  of 
the  king's  audience  chamber  with  a  "Judgment  of  Solomon,"  and  a 
variety  of  allegorical  figures  and  landscapes.  After  his  appointment 
as  king's  painter  he  cooperated  with  Carducho  in  a  series  of  frescos 
in  the  cathedral  of  Toledo,  and  later  executed  several  independent 
works  for  the  same  building.  During  the  reign  of  Philip  IV  he  sup- 
plied for  the  decoration  of  the  palace  of  Buen  Retiro  a  large  com- 
position, representing  the  "Repulse  of  the  English  under  Lord  Wim- 
bledon at  Cadiz,  in  1625."  It  was  a  following,  at  a  distance,  of  the 
standard  established  by  Velasquez  in  the  "Surrender  of  Breda,"  in 
com^tition  with  which,  unfortunately  for  itself,  it  now  hangs  in  the 
Prado.    Caxes  died  in  1642. 


II 

EL  GRECO  (doMENICO  THEOTOCOPULI) 

Like  Caxes  and  Carducho,  Domenico  Theotocopuli  was  of  foreign 
birth,  and  his  career,  as  theirs  did,  bridged  over  the  reigns  of  the  three 
PhiHps.  But  it  may  well  be  considered  during  this  period  of  Philip 
III,  since  it  marks  the  beginning  of  a  change  in  the  point  of  view  of 
Spanish  painters— a  departure  from  the  imitation  of  Italy. 

There  were  three  painters  in  Spain,  contemporaries,  each  of 
whom,  because  of  his  Greek  origin,  was  known  as  El  Greco.  They 
were  Pedro  Serafin  of  Barcelona,  Nicolas  de  la  Torre,  a  painter  of 
illuminations,  employed  at  the  Escorial,  and  the  most  famous,  with 
whom  the  surname  is  now  exclusively  associated,  Domenico  Theoto- 
copuli. According  to  tradition  he  studied  with  Titian,  so  that  it  is 
assumed  he  was  born  in  Venice,  probably  of  some  Greek  family 
which  had  found  refuge  there  after  the  capture  of  Constantinople  by 
the  Turks.  The  date  of  his  birth  is  fixed  by  Palomino  as  1548;  and 
it  has  been  suggested  that  he  may  have  been  the  son  of  a  certain 
Domenico  dalle  Greche,  who  in  1 549  engraved  a  drawing  of  Titian's 
representing  Pharaoh  and  his  hosts  overthrown  in  the  Red  Sea.  The 
first  authentic  record  of  his  life  proves  that  he  was  residing  in  To- 
ledo in  1577,  when  he  commenced  for  the  cathedral  the  altarpiece 
"Stripping  of  Christ,"  which  now  hangs  in  the  sacristy. 

Though  an  early  work,  it  still  remains  one  of  his  finest.  The  ar- 
mor of  the  centurion— a  portrait  of  El  Greco— is  black ;  the  Saviour's 
robe  is  red,  and  His  figure  dominates  the  picture.  It  is  the  only  one 
of  the  group  that  is  seen  in  full ;  and  it  is  treated  with  a  gjandeur  of 
simplicity.    The  head,  of  noble  manliness  as  well  as  of  calm  exalta- 

66 


CONCLUSION    OF    ITALIAN    INFLUENCE  67 

tion,  is  irresistibly  arresting;  a  most  impressive  contrast  to  the  other 
rocking  heads,  swayed  by  conflicting  passions.  These  heads,  also, 
in  their  several  types  are  excellently  characterized.  The  divinity  of 
the  Saviour's,  we  may  note,  is  not  helped  out  by  the  addition  of  a 
nimbus,  which  was  an  Italian  device  that  did  not  commend  itself  to 
the  realistic  taste  of  the  Spanish.  Nor  is  there  anything  of  Italian 
artifice  in  the  drapery  of  the  Saviour's  robe.  A  touch  of  this  does 
appear  in  the  studied  folds  of  the  mantle  worn  by  the  figure  at  the 
bottom  of  the  picture ;  but  to  the  principal  figure  impressiveness  has 
been  g^ven  by  means  entirely  opposite — a  broad  simplicity. 

In  connection  with  this  one  recalls  Titian's  treatment,  so  mas- 
terfully mannered,  of  the  draperies  of  the  Madonna  in  his  great 
"Assumption" ;  not  to  deprecate  the  treatment,  which  is  full  of  sig- 
nificance as  used  there  by  Titian,  but  to  suggest  how  radically  inde- 
pendent of  the  Venetian  master  was  El  Greco  in  his  manner  of 
conceiving  and  visualizing  his  subject.  It  helps  to  explain  his 
impatience  when  the  connoisseurs  of  the  day,  anticipating  our  own 
tendency  to  label  a  man  as  the  follower  of  So-and-So,  likened  his 
style  to  Titian's.  They  meant  it  for  a  compliment,  for  Titian  was  the 
glory  of  the  Royal  Galleries  and  represented  to  that  age  the  supreme 
and  perhaps  sole  standard  of  accomplishment.  But  El  Greco  was  of 
other  stuff:  independent,  and,  though  Spain  was  only  the  country  of 
his  adoption,  as  proudly  self-sufficient  as  the  great  Spanish  artists 
were  to  prove  themselves.  Moreover,  there  is  every  indication  that 
his  bent  of  motive  anticipated  the  naturalistic  character  of  the 
Spanish  school,  so  how  could  he  be  affiliated  to  the  superb  conven- 
tion of  the  Venetians?  To  effect  a  compromise  between  these  op- 
posing motives  was  a  problem  later  undertaken  by  Velasquez,  who 
solved  it  in  the  "Surrender  of  Breda."  But  in  El  Greco  there  was 
no  such  element  as  compromise ;  he  emphasized  his  independence  of 
Titian  by  exaggerating  differences.  He  unduly  lengthened  figures, 
making  the  limbs  and  draperies  stringy ;  for  warm  flesh  tones  sub- 
stituted cold  gfray  ones,  and  split  up  the  breadth  and  harmony  of  the 
chiaroscuro  by  cuts  of  light,  as  if  he  had  seen  his  subject  under  the 
swift,  harsh  glare  of  a  flash  of  lightning. 


68  OLD    SPANISH    MASTERS 

Such  was  a  picture  painted  by  royal  command  for  the  Escorial, 
representing  St.  Maurice,  who  feared  God  rather  than  the  Emperor 
Maximihan  and  chose  death  in  preference  to  idolatry.  The  king, 
having  been  led  to  expect  something  Titianesque,  was  greatly  dis- 
appointed, and  would  not  accept  the  picture  for  the  Escorial  Church, 
but  relegated  it  to  an  obscurer  position  in  the  building.  Yet  he  paid 
the  price  agreed  upon ;  a  fact  worth  mention,  since  it  is  characteristic 
of  the  generosity  and  fairness  with  which  all  the  kings  of  Spain 
treated  the  artists  in  their  employ,  and  presents  a  marked  contrast 
to  the  way  in  which  Italian  artists  were  frequently  treated  by  their 
papal  and  noble  patrons. 

El  Greco,  having  thus  lost  the  royal  favor,  seems  to  have  taken 
the  lesson  to  heart;  for  shortly  afterward  he  produced  that  noble 
picture,  recognized  as  his  masterpiece,  "The  Burial  of  the  Count  of 
Orgaz."  It  was  painted  in  1584  to  the  order  of  Cardinal- Archbishop 
Quiroga,  who  presented  it  to  the  Church  of  Santo  Tome  in  Toledo, 
where  it  may  still  be  seen.  This  church  had  been  rebuilt  by  Gonzalo 
Ruiz,  Count  of  Orgaz,  the  head  of  a  family  celebrated  in  the  ro- 
mances of  the  thirteenth  century.  So  religious  and  gracious  was 
his  own  life,  that  when,  in  1323,  his  funeral  was  being  conducted  in 
the  building,  St.  Stephen  and  St.  Augustine  came  down  from  heaven 
and  with  their  own  hands  laid  his  body  in  the  tomb.  This  episode 
forms  the  central  group  of  the  picture.  St.  Stephen  is  represented 
as  a  dark-haired  youth  of  noble  countenance,  St.  Augustine  as  an  old 
man  whose  white  head  is  crowned  with  a  miter,  while  in  contrast 
with  their  richly-embroidered  vestments  of  golden  tissue,  is  the  form 
of  the  warrior  in  a  suit  of  black  armor,  inlaid  with  gold  damascening. 
The  three  types  of  head  are  also  finely  contrasted.  Other  stately 
forms  of  monks  and  of  priests  surround  the  principal  group,  while 
gathered  at  the  back  is  a  throng  of  nobles,  whose  faces  are  portraits 
of  the  grandees  of  El  Greco's  day.  Yet  even  in  this  picture  the 
painter  could  not  forego  entirely  his  taste  for  eccentricity.  Above 
this  scene  is  another  one,  representing  Gonzalo  being  received  into 
heaven.  The  Saviour  sits  enthroned  among  clouds  that  are  fiat  and 
sharply  edged;  below  Him  is  the  Virgin,  at  whose  feet  kneels  the 


CONCLUSION    OF    ITALIAN    INFLUENCE  69 

emancipated  soul  in  the  form  of  a  naked  man,  of  a  livid  hue  and  a 
size  too  large  in  scale  for  the  other  figures.  Eccentricity,  in  fact, 
grew  upon  El  Greco,  until  he  acquired  an  extravagant  mannerism 
that  in  his  later  works  seems  to  have  run  mad.  Nevertheless  he 
maintained  his  popularity  as  a  painter  of  religious  subjects,  probably 
because  his  eccentricity  was  interpreted  as  asceticism,  and,  therefore, 
seemed  an  expression  of  devoutness. 

This  unbalanced  condition  of  mind,  however,  which  marred  the 
dignity  and  beauty  of  his  more  pretentious  work,  was  exchanged  for 
sane  and  intelligent  observation  when  he  undertook  a  portrait.  In 
these  the  splendid  characterization  of  the  heads  that  is  frequent 
throughout  his  subject-pictures  appears  in  an  eminent  degree,  as 
may  be  seen  in  the  portraits  of  himself  and  of  his  daughter  in  the 
accompanying  engravings. 

El  Greco  has  been  described  as  a  painter  who  alternated  between 
reason  and  delirium  and  displayed  his  great  genius  only  during  lucid 
intervals,  so  that  he  left  many  admirable  and  many  execrable  per- 
formances. He  was  much  engaged  also  as  an  architect  and  sculptor. 
Pacheco,  who  visited  him  in  1633,  relates  how  he  explained  and  jus- 
tified his  harsh  and  spotty  style  by  saying  that  it  was  his  practice  to 
retouch  a  picture  until  each  mass  of  color  was  separate  from  the 
rest,  and  that  by  so  doing  he  believed  he  gave  strength  and  char- 
acter to  the  whole.  Among  his  pupils  was  Orrente  and  Tristan.  He 
died  in  Toledo  in  1625,  regretted  by  the  community,  and  praised  in  a 
sonnet  by  his  friend,  the  poet  Luis  de  Gongora, 


NOTES  BY  THE  ENGRAVER 

EL  GRECO  is  one  of  the  chief  paint  the  altarpiece  of  "The  Strip- 
glories  of  Spanish  art.  The  first  ping  of  Christ"  in  the  sacristy  of  the 
authentic  notice  of  his  life  comes  to  cathedral,  the  richest  church  in  Spain, 
us  from  his  appearance  in  Toledo  in  Stirling-Maxwell  gives  the  date  as 
1575,  at  about  which  period,  accord-  1577,  but  from  his  description  of  the 
ing  to  Carl  Justi,  he  was  invited  to  painting  he  evidently  had  not  seen 


70 


OLD    SPANISH    MASTERS 


the  original.  El  Greco  was  a  pupil 
of  Titian  and  in  this  painting  he 
gave  to  the  Spaniards  their  first  idea 
of  his  great  master's  art,  and  pro- 
claimed himself  a  colorist  preemi- 
nent above  all  others  at  the  time. 
Such  was  the  applause  he  received  on 
the  completion  of  this  work  that  he  is 
described  as  being  intoxicated  with 
success.  Piqued,  however,  at  the 
compliment  from  those  who  knew 
that  "he  painted  like  Titian,"  he  de- 
termined to  show  them  that  he  could 
do  even  better  things.  He  was,  how- 
ever, unable  to  continue  at  the  high 
level  he  had  obtained,  but  through  a 
craving  for  originality,  developed  an 
incredible  mannerism.  As  Carl  Justi 
puts  it,  "isolated  from  all  healthy  art 
influences  in  Toledo's  crumbling  eyrie, 
he  sank  lower  and  lower,  painting 
like  a  visionary,  and  taking  for  reve- 
lations the  distorted  fancies  of  a  mor- 
bid brain." 

From  his  coming  to  Toledo  till 
1614,  when  he  died,  he  never  quitted 
the  town,  but  continued  with  wonder- 
ful activity  to  fill  the  surrounding 
churches  with  altarpieces  and  the 
halls  of  the  nobility  with  portraits,  in 
which  branch  he  particularly  ex- 
celled. A  comprehensive  exhibition 
of  his  works  would  show  him  as  re- 
markable for  rare  pictorial  and  im- 
aginative genius  as  for  unexampled 
and,  in  fact,  pathological  debasement 
of  manner,  many  of  his  later  works 
being  simply  absurd. 

In  "The  Stripping  of  Christ,"  the 
scene  is  represented  on  the  slope  of 
Calvary,  and  this  accounts  for  the 
heads  rising  above  one  another. 
Against  the  gray  rocks  of  the  back- 
ground, the  axes  and  spears  of  the 
soldiers  are  silhouetted,  with  an  occa- 
sional helmet,  with  its  white  plume. 
The    calm    and    majestic    figure    of 


Christ  occupies  the  center  of  the  can- 
vas, and  is  further  distinguished  by 
being  clad  in  a  simple  red  garment  of 
a  rich  soft  tone.  The  tumultuous 
mob  behind,  the  color  of  which  is 
subdued  and  richly  varied  warm  um- 
bery  tones,  contrast  powerfully  in 
the  angry  faces  with  the  benign,  up- 
turned countenance  of  Christ,  who,  it 
may  be  imagined,  is  praying,  "Father, 
forgive  them,  for  they  know  not  what 
they  do,"  and  on  whose  features  is 
centered  the  highest  light  in  the  pic- 
ture. For  pictorial  and  imaginative 
power  nothing  could  be  finer.  On 
the  right  of  Christ  is  the  dignified 
figure  of  the  centurion,  clad  in  armor, 
which  is  said  to  be  a  portrait  of  the 
painter,  and  directly  beneath  him  is 
the  portrait  of  his  daughter,  figuring 
as  the  topmost  of  the  group  of  the 
three  Marys.  Over  her  head  is  a 
white  lace  Spanish  mantilla.  The 
next  of  these  figures  is  evidently  the 
Mother  of  Our  Lord,  clad  in  the  tra- 
ditional blue  garment  drawn  over  her 
head,  while  the  foremost  Mary  is  in 
a  yellow  robe  of  a  soft  neutral  shade. 
These  are  watching  with  sorrowful 
interest  the  soldier  on  the  opposite 
side  boring  a  hole  in  the  transverse 
beam  of  the  cross  where  one  of 
Christ's  hands  will  be  nailed.  The 
soldier  thus  engaged  is  clad  in  a  yel- 
low jacket,  with  apron  of  a  greenish 
hue,  the  high  lights  of  which  are  of 
a  pinkish  cast.  His  shirt-sleeves  are 
white.  The  soldier  above  him  and  on 
the  left  hand  of  Christ  is  examining 
the  texture  of  the  Saviour's  garment 
preparatory  to  disrobing  him.  His 
left  hand,  which  holds  the  rope  encir- 
cling Christ's  wrist,  is  resting  against 
his  hip.  This  arm  of  our  Lord  is  not 
being  "violently  dragged  downward 
by  the  two  executioners  in  front,"  as 
Maxwell  erroneously  describes  it;  for 


CORONATION  OF  THE  VIRGIN.     BY  EL  GRECO. 

FROM  THE   OKIGINAI.   SKETCH,    IN   THE    COLLECTION    OK    SENOR    PABLO    BOSCH    OF   MADRID. 


CONCLUSION    OF    ITALIAN    INFLUENCE 


71 


the  rope  is  slack  in  the  executioner's 
hand,  while  he  is  apparently  struck 
with  the  quality  of  the  garment,  for 
which  the  soldiers  were  to  cast  lots. 
It  is  a  direct  allusion  to  St.  John,  xix. 

The  picture  is  on  canvas,  and  meas- 
ures nearly  six  feet  wide  by  about 
nine  feet  six  inches  high. 

That  the  portrait,  said  to  be  his 
own,  is  a  genuine  work  by  El  Greco 
there  can  be  no  doubt,  since  it  be- 
longs to  that  period  of  his  career 
when  his  manner  became  pronounced 
and  unequivocal,  but  that  it  is  a  por- 
trait of  the  artist  himself  may  be 
questioned.  Greco  was  a  master  be- 
fore he  left  Italy,  and  many  of  his 
Italian  works — works  which  rank 
with  the  best  productions  of  the  Ve- 
netian school— have  long  passed  for 
Titians,  Veroneses,  and  Bassanos. 
We  have  only  to  compare  this  youth- 
ful physiognomy  with  the  (so-called) 
portrait  of  his  daughter,  which  is  in 
his  earlier  Venetian  manner,  to  see 
the  great  step  there  is  between  this 
and  his  later  Toledian  style.  More- 
over when  we  compare  dates,  and  in 
view  of  his  more  matured  manner,  it 
becomes  as  equally  uncertain  that  he 
could  even  have  had  a  daughter  of  ap- 
parently eighteen  or  more  years  of 
age,  before  1575,  when  only  twenty- 
seven  years  of  age,  as  that  so  youth- 
ful a  head  as  the  one  figuring  as  his 
own  likeness  should  bear  the  impress 
of  his  ripest  handling.  This  conjec- 
ture is  furthermore  strengthened  by 
the  fact  that  the  fashion  of  the  im- 
mense white  ruflf  worn  around  the 
neck,  such  as  this  portrait  exhibits, 
did  not  come  into  vogue  untfl  the 
reign  of  Philip  III,  1598  to  1621, 
which  would  make  Greco  fifty  or 
more  years  old  when  he  painted  this 
head.    It  is  more  likely,  then,  that 


this  is  a  portrait  of  his  son  or  of  one 
of  his  pupils.  The  regularity  of 
the  features  and  the  largeness  of  the 
eyes  with  the  oval  face  would  point 
to  a  Greek  rather  than  a  Spanish 
type.  It  hangs  in  the  museum  of 
Seville  and  is  a  life-size  bust  upon 
canvas.  Greco  painted  numerous 
portraits  in  this  style  with  the  large 
white  ruff  about  the  neck,  many  of 
which  are  in  the  Prado  Museum  at 
Madrid.  They  all  have  this  dignified 
bearing  with  the  head  near  the  top  of 
the  canvas,  and  belong  to  the  latter 
twenty-five  years  of  his  life. 

We  see  in  this  portrait  a  very  small 
palette,  only  five  colors  and  seven 
brushes,  and  it  may  be  conjectured 
that  this  was  all  that  Greco  needed, 
yet  what  astonishing  results  he  pro- 
duced in  depth  and  richness  of  tone, 
and  brilliancy  of  chiaroscuro! 

The  pilgrim  of  art  visiting  Toledo 
should  not  fail  to  see  the  little  unpre- 
tending Chapel  of  St.  Jose.  He  will 
not  find  it  mentioned  in  his  Baedeker, 
nevertheless  it  ranks  among  the  im- 
portant places  that  should  not  be 
overlooked,  since  it  contains  some 
rare  pictures  by  El  Greco — Toledo's 
chief  glory— which  the  art-lover  will 
be  glad  to  see.  Among  them  is  this 
superb  altarpiece  of  St.  Martin,  on 
his  white  horse,  dividing  his  mantle 
with  a  beggar.  Its  tender,  pensive, 
and  subdued  feeling,  elevated  style, 
and  exquisite  delicacy  of  treatment, 
make  it  one  of  the  first  of  all  relig- 
ious works  of  Spain.  It  is  on  can- 
vas, life-size.  St.  Martin  is  quoted 
as  a  shining  instance  that  Chri.stian 
humanity  is  not  incompatible  with  the 
sturdy  calling  of  a  warrior.  He  ex- 
cited the  admiration  and  bve  of  his 
comrades  by  the  constant  exercise  of 
all  the  highest  virtues,  more  espe- 
cially that  of  charity.     One   frosty 


72 


OLD    SPANISH    MASTERS 


morning,  the  legend  recounts,  at 
Amiens,  in  the  year  a.d.  332,  when 
the  severity  of  the  cold  was  such  that 
men  were  frozen  to  death  in  the 
streets,  the  saint,  on  going  out  of  the 
city's  gate,  was  met  by  a  naked  beg- 
gar; and  having  nothing  but  his 
cloak,  he  divided  it  in  twain  forth- 
with, giving  one  half  to  the  mendi- 
cant, and  covering  himself  as  well  as 
he  might  with  the  remainder.  "Yes," 
said  an  American,  closing  the  book 
from  which  he  was  reading  this  ac- 
count to  his  daughter  as  they  stood 
before  the  picture,  while  I  sat  quietly 
unobserved  in  a  corner  copying  it — 
"yes,  and  the  saint  had  n't  gone  far 
when  he  met  another  beggar,  as 
naked  as  the  previous  one,  and 
straightway  he  gave  him  the  other 
half  of  the  cloak,  for  it  was  a  nipping 
and  an  eager  air.  And  passing  that 
way  again  not  many  hours  after,  he 
encountered  the  self-same  beggars 
naked  as  before  with  the  thermome- 
ter on  the  decline  and  cold  as  blazes, 
and  demanding  of  them  what  had  be- 
come of  the  cloak,  they  confessed  to 
liaving  pawned  it  for  some  warming 
drink.  And  in  this  manner,"  contin- 
ued the  Yankee,  "the  cloak  got  into 
the  hands  of  an  antiquarian,  was 
pieced  together  and  sold  to  the  church 
— a  treasured  relic." 

The  theme  was  a  popular  one  with 
religious  painters  from  the  earliest 
times,  Greco's  claim  to  originality  in 
its  treatment  lies  principally  in  the 
lighting.  He  places  the  event  upon  one 
of  the  hills  about  Toledo,  overtopping 
its  eminence,  in  the  quiet  afterglow 
of  the  setting  sun,  with  the  twinkling 
lights  of  the  city  in  the  dusk  below. 
There  is  much  dignity  in  the  arrange- 
ment, and  the  dark  trappings  on  the 
light  ground  of  the  horse  is  a  happy 
conception   in  balancing  the   fullness 


of  detail  to  the  left  of  the  composi- 
tion. Exception  may  be  taken  to  the 
disproportionate  height  of  the  beg- 
gar, also  to  his  legs  coming  on  a  line 
with  those  of  the  horse's  hind  legs — 
so  many  legs  show  here.  Imagine 
for  a  moment  how  the  composition  of 
this  corner  would  be  improved  had 
the  artist  brought  the  drapery  that 
encircles  the  beggar's  leg,  farther 
down,  very  nearly  hiding  both.  No 
one  will  deny  that  the  gain  would 
be  considerable;  greater  simplicity 
would  be  attained  and  at  the  same 
time  a  more  pleasing  variety,  and  the 
enormous  height  of  the  figure  would 
be  modified — to  the  eye,  that  is.  It 
is  owing  to  peculiarities  of  this  nature 
that  Greco  is  the  most  bizarre  figure 
in  the  Spanish  school.  His  beauties 
however,  far  outweigh  his  defects. 
Nothing  could  be  more  beautiful  or 
appropriate  to  the  sentiment  in  this 
work,  than  the  even,  sober,  gray  tone 
and  atmospheric  quality  that  imbue  it. 
Within  this  prevailing  element  he  ad- 
mirably sustains  the  harmony  of  all 
the  parts;  the  steel  armor,  with  its 
delicate  tracery  of  gilt  ornamentation, 
such  as  may  be  seen  on  a  Toledo 
blade;  the  rich,  low  reddish  tone  of 
the  drapery;  the  black  trappings  of 
the  animal  and  his  creamy  white 
color;  the  soft  warm  hue  of  the  flesh 
tones  of  the  beggar  and  the  saint, 
and  the  gray  depth  of  the  sky  and 
the  background  space,  which  wells 
up  by  imperceptible  gradations  to  the 
umber  tints  of  the  foreground.  He 
is  careful  that  nothing  shall  disturb 
the  peace  of  the  ensemble.  Only  in 
works  of  a  high  order  is  this  care  of 
the  artist  for  the  repose  of  the  en- 
semble visible,  and  it  is  a  test  of  the 
artist's  sensitiveness  to  nature. 

"The   Coronation   of   the   Virgin," 
which  I  have  engraved,  is  the  original 


: ''.  t  ■•; :  / 


ST.   MARTIN  AND  MENDICANT.     BY  EL  GRECO. 

»  TNII  CMDKM  or  tMS  y.'.f,    T<ilKO<>. 


CONCLUSION    OF    ITALIAN    INFLUENCE 


73 


sketch  for  the  upper  portion  of  the 
final  work  of  the  same  subject  painted 
by  the  artist  for  the  Church  of  St. 
Jos^  at  Toledo,  where  it  still  exists. 
The  sketch  is  from  the  collection  of 
Scfior  Pablo  Bosch  of  Madrid,  who 
kindly  gave  me  every  facility  for  en- 
graving it. 

Were  it  possible  to  bring  the  two 
works  together — the  sketch  and  the 
St.  Jose  canvas— the  comparison 
would  form  an  interesting  example  in 
showing  how  superior  an  artist's  first 
conception  often  is,  even  to  its  details 
of  brush  marks,  to  that  which  he  fi- 
nally and  laboriously  accomplishes  on 
its  basis.  Of  all  the  artists  of  the 
Spanish  school  El  Greco  is  the  most 
unequal  in  his  work,  and  the  differ- 
ences of  handling  in  his  many  can- 
vases demonstrates  what  a  man  of 
moods  he  seems  to  have  been.  The 
present  sketch,  for  instance,  shows 
the  ardor  and  interest  of  an  inspira- 
tion, not  only  in  every  touch  which  is 
pregnant  with  life,  but  in  its  delicate 
and  brilliant  coloring,  and  in  its 
decorative  composition,  charged  with 
imagination  in  every  line,  and  re- 
minding one  strongly  of  Blake,  in  the 
audacious  forms  of  its  great  clouds 
shooting  up  from  behind  like  tongues 
of  fire  or  angeb'  wings.  But  the  St. 
Jose  canvas  on  the  contrary  is  a  sin- 
gularly dull  affair,  lacking  in  effect  of 
light  and  shade,  and  spoiled  utterly 
in  its  composition  by  the  addition,  or 
intrusion  rather,  of  two  three-quar- 
ter-length figures  of  saints,  below,  on 
either  side,  who  are  gazing  up  in 
what  are  meant  for  rapturous  atti- 
tudes. 

Those  who  are  acquainted  with  a 
similar  subject  by  Velasquez,  of  the 
Coronation  of  the  Virgin,  in  the  Ma- 
drid Museum,  will  reo^^nize  at  once, 
in  the  ck}se  resemblance  of  its  com- 


position with  this  by  El  Greco,  to 
whom  Velasquez  is  indebted  for  his 
idea.  So  close  indeed  is  the  resem- 
blance that  it  amounts  to  a  direct  pla- 
giarism. And  yet  how  far  it  falls 
short  of  El  Greco  not  only  in  light 
and  shade  but  in  religious  feeling  and 
imagination ! 

It  has  been  said  that  Velasquez 
(and  this  by  no  less  an  authority  than 
Maxwell)  owed  much  to  Tristan,  a 
pupil  of  El  Greco,  and  yet  nothing 
exists  by  Tristan  to  warrant  such  an 
assertion,  for  his  works,  which  are 
exceedingly  few,  discover  a  dry  touch 
and  insignificant  manner  compared  to 
the  rich  and  varied  style  of  his  great 
master,  and  it  is  altogether  unlikely 
that  Velasquez  would  repair  to  a  pu- 
pil of  El  Greco  for  inspiration  when 
he  could  have  access  to  the  master 
himself.  Yet  while  nothing  is  said  of 
the  influence  El  Greco  must  have  ex- 
ercised upon  Velasquez,  we  have  di- 
rect and  infallible  evidence,  not  only 
by  the  present  sketch  but  by  other 
works  of  the  Greek,  how  Velasquez 
must  have  valued  and  studied  his  can- 
vases. 

The  portrait  of  the  artist's  daugh- 
ter would  seem  to  be  a  unique  exam- 
ple among  his  works,  there  being 
nothing  in  it  reminding  one  of  the  pe- 
culiar handling  in  the  technique  of  the 
body  of  his  pictures,  unless  it  be  in 
the  manipulation  of  the  high  lights  of 
the  ermine  fur ;  "otherwise,"  as  a  con- 
noisseur remarked  to  me  concerning 
it,  "you  might  never  know  it  was  a 
Theotocopuli."  It  is  just  these  few 
scattered  lights  that  bear  the  unques- 
tioned impress  of  the  master's  hand — 
or  manner,  rather,  for  he  was  very 
mannered  as  to  both  touch  and  style. 
But  in  this  head  he  apparently  turned 
aside  from  his  habitual  manner  in  the 
endeavor  to  do  justice  to  the  features 


74 


OLD    SPANISH    MASTERS 


of  his  lovely  daughter ;  and  though  he 
has  succeeded,  to  some  extent,  with 
pose  and  expression,  in  giving  a  look 
of  virgin  shyness,  sweetness,  and  re- 
serve, it  is  yet  cold,  hard,  and  tight  in 
treatment.  The  technique  of  the  hand 
is  better  in  its  suppleness  and  fleshy 
quality,  and  it  softens  beautifully  into 
the  depth  of  the  fur,  and  is  thus  nat- 
urally subordinated  to  the   face. 

The  greatest  volume  of  light  is 
concentrated  upon  the  face,  which  is 
brighter  in  tone  than  the  fur.  Photo- 
graphs, on  the  contrary,  falsify  this 
effect  by  rendering  the  fur  lighter 
than  the  flesh.  The  coloring  of  the 
whole  is  rich  and  mellow.  The  back- 
ground is  flat,  of  a  dark,  cool,  gray, 
umbery  tone,  into  which  the  delicate 
hairs  of  the  fur  tenderly  fade,  for  he 
is  unable  to  resist  painting  the  separ- 
ate hairs  of  the  fur,  albeit  he  yet  re- 
tains a  general  impression  of  the  hair 
as  a  mass.     The  tone  of  the  fur  is  a 


warm  creamy  gray.  The  ring  on  the 
third  finger  contains  a  ruby,  painted 
with  fine  depth  and  glow  of  color. 
The  ruflfle  about  the  black  sleeve  is  a 
warm  brownish  yellow,  very  neutral. 
The  wimple  about  the  head  and  throat 
is  of  some  delicate  soft  gray  material, 
of  a  tone  similar  to  the  color  of  the 
fur.  The  face  is  luminous  and  of  a 
general  mellow  cast,  becoming  a  rosy 
flush  upon  the  cheeks,  and  the  hair  is 
jet  black.  The  ensemble  is  harmoni- 
ous, rich,  and  luminous,  and  executed 
with  considerable  finesse  and  delicacy. 
It  was  through  the  medium  of  Mr. 
Claude  Phillips  that  I  came  across 
this  beautiful  canvas  at  the  residence, 
in  London,  of  Sir  John  Stirling-Max- 
well, Bart.,  M.P.,  who  kindly  granted 
me  the  liberty  of  engraving  it.  It 
measures  nineteen  and  a  half  inches 
wide  by  twenty-five  inches  high,  and 
is  life-size. 

T.  C. 


>  •     •     •    •       «      • 


iUfc   UAtOHifck  UK   fch  UKKCU.     liV    IjOMKNKO  TilKun»COI'l:U. 

i:«    THR   COU.SCTION   or   MM   j(iHM    «ni(UM.-IIAX«BIJ,    |t\KT  .    M  I-  ,  10MlM»\ 


CULMINATION  OF  NATIVE  ART  IN 
THE  SEVENTEENTH  CENTURY 


CHAPTER  V 

CULMINATION   OF   NATIVE   ART   IN   THE    SEVENTEENTH 

CENTURY 

PERIOD   OF    PHILIP    IV 
(162 1 -1665) 

PHILIP  IV  was  sixteen  years  old  when  he  ascended  the  throne. 
His  first  act  was  to  dismiss  his  father's  minister,  the  Duke  of 
Lerma,  and  appoint  as  his  successor  the  Count  OHvarez,  a 
son  of  the  governor  of  the  Alcazar  at  Seville.  This  nobleman  in  his 
native  city  had  been  a  patron  of  arts  and  letters ;  in  his  now  exalted 
position  there  was  scope  for  larger  ambitions.  The  king,  naturally 
of  an  indolent  temper,  was  not  long  in  choosing  between  a  life  of 
pleasure  and  one  of  political  cares.  OHvarez  dexterously  turned  this 
weakness  to  his  own  account,  alternately  plying  him  with  amuse- 
ments and  perplexing  him  with  problems  of  state,  until  the  king, 
thankful  to  be  relieved  of  the  weight  of  responsibility,  left  the  cares 
of  government  to  his  minister.  The  latter  at  first  made  an  effort  to 
cope  with  the  abuses  that  had  honeycombed  the  vast  empire,  but 
was  soon  diverted  by  visions  of  military  aggrandizement.  The  his- 
tory of  this  reign  of  forty-four  years  is  the  history  of  misrule  at 
home,  oppression,  rapacity,  and  revolt  in  the  distant  provinces  and 
colonies,  declining  commerce,  and  bloody  and  disastrous  wars,  closed 
by  the  inglorious  peace  of  the  Pyrenees  with  Louis  XIV.  While  his 
empire  was  crumbling  to  decay,  the  King  of  Spain  and  the  Indies 

77 


78  OLD    SPANISH    MASTERS 

acted  farces  in  his  private  theater,  lounged  in  the  studios,  sat  in 
solemn  state  at  bull-fights  and  autos-de-fe,  or  retired  to  his  cabinet 
at  the  Prado  to  toy  with  mistresses  or  devise  improvements  for  his 
galleries  and  gardens. 

This  is  the  appalling  side  of  the  matter.  On  the  other  hand, 
despite  his  political  inefficiency,  Philip  was  a  man  of  intellectual 
parts,  a  sincere  lover  of  arts  and  literature  and  an  enlightened  and 
generous  patron  —a  Maecenas  of  this  Augustan  age  of  Spain.  For, 
whereas  Cervantes  had  been  the  bright  particular  star  of  Philip 
the  Third's  reign,  and  it  is  one  of  the  few  things  to  that  monarch's 
credit  that  he  enjoyed  Don  Quixote,  a  constellation  of  literary  lights 
illumined  the  reign  of  his  son:  Calderon,  the  idealizer  of  the 
religion  and  chivalry  of  Spain  in  four  hundred  and  fifty  plays ;  Lope 
de  Vega,  with  his  eighteen  hundred  dramas  of  intrigue;  Luis  de 
Gongora,  the  euphuistic  poet;  Velez  de  Guevara,  poet  and  ..tory- 
writer,  from  whom  Le  Sage  drew  his  "Diable  Boiteux" ;  Bartolomeo 
Argensola,  poet  and  historian  of  Aragon;  Antonio  de  Solis,  his- 
torian of  the  Conquest  of  Mexico— these  were  either  rewarded  with 
sinecures  at  court,  or  otherwise  encouraged  with  royal  favor.  But 
it  was  in  painting  that  Philip,  no  mean  artist  himself,  particularly 
delighted.  Two  years  after  his  succession  Velasquez  was  intro- 
duced to  his  notice  by  Olivarez,  and  that  friendship  between  king 
and  painter  was  begun  which  terminated  only  with  the  latter's 
death. 


LESSER   PAINTERS   OF   THE   SCHOOL   OF   CASTILE 

But  before  considering  Velasquez  we  may  note  some  of  the  other 
painters  of  the  school  of  Castile  during  this  reign.  Carducho  and 
Caxes  have  been  already  mentioned.  There  were  also  Luis  Tristan, 
Pedro  Orrente,  and  Carreno  de  Miranda.  Tristan  was  born  in  1586 
in  the  neighborhood  of  Toledo.  Entering  the  school  of  El  Greco, 
he  avoided  the  eccentricities  and  absorbed  the  good  qualities  of  his 
master's  style  and  became  his  favorite  pupil.  One  of  his  earliest 
works  was  a  "Last  Supper"  for  the  Jeronymite  monastery  of  La 
Sisla,  at  Toledo.  When  it  was  finished,  the  monks  objected  to  the 
price,  200  ducats,  and  referred  the  matter  to  El  Greco.  The  latter, 
having  examined  the  picture,  upbraided  Tristan,  calling  him  a 
rogue  and  a  disgrace  to  his  profession.  At  this  the  monks  inter- 
posed with  an  excuse  for  the  youth  on  the  score  of  his  inexperience. 
"Indeed,"  exclaimed  El  Greco,  "he  is  quite  a  novice  for  he  has  asked 
only  two  hundred  ducats  for  a  picture  worth  five  hundred;  let  it, 
therefore,  be  rolled  up  and  carried  to  my  house."  The  monks  made 
haste  to  settle  with  Tristan  on  his  own  terms.  In  his  thirtieth  year 
he  painted  a  series  of  pictures  which,  still  to  be  seen  on  the  retablo 
of  the  parish  church  of  Yepes.  are  considered  his  finest  work.  His 
female  types  are  coarse  in  features,  but  the  coloring  of  these  pictures 
is  rich  in  tone  and  the  brushwork  broad  and  vigorous.  Tristan  also 
painted  some  portraits,  notably  one  of  Cardinal  Sandoval  for  the 
Chapter  House  of  Toledo,  and  another  of  Lope  de  Vega,  now  in  the 
hermitage  at  St.  Petersburg. 

n 


8o  OLD    SPANISH    MASTERS 

Pedro  Orrente  was  born  in  Murcia,  on  the  borders  of  Valencia, 
but  his  youth  was  passed  in  Toledo,  where  he  is  supposed  to  have 
studied  with  El  Greco.  Later  in  life  he  resided  in  Madrid,  occupied 
upon  a  variety  of  works  for  Buen  Retiro,  and  finally  died  in  Madrid 
in  1644.  His  work  is  interesting  because  of  his  fondness  for  paint- 
ing landscape  with  animals  introduced.  Thus  he  chose  such  sub- 
jects as  the  "Prodigal  Son,"  the  "Israelites  Departing  from  Egypt," 
and  pastoral  scenes  from  the  Old  Testament.  Sometimes,  as  in 
"Cattle  Reposing  Beneath  Rocks,"  he  would  paint  an  animal  piece 
without  the  excuse  of  a  story.  He  may  have  lived  for  a  time  in 
Valencia,  since  Esteban  March  of  that  city  seems  to  have  been  his 
pupil. 

One  of  the  most  popular  painters  of  the  period  in  Castile  was 
Juan  Carreno  de  Miranda,  born  in  1614  of  a  knightly  and  noble 
family,  at  Aviles,  in  the  province  of  Asturias.  His  father,  having  a 
lawsuit  to  prosecute  in  Madrid,  took  the  boy  with  him  and  placed 
him  in  a  school  of  drawing.  When  Carreno  was  in  his  twentieth 
year,  he  painted  some  pictures  for  the  cloisters  of  the  college  of 
Doiia  Maria  of  Aragon,  which  were  favorably  received  by  the  pub- 
lic. Of  the  next  twenty  years  of  his  life  no  facts  are  recorded,  but 
it  must  have  been  during  this  period  that  many  of  his  works  which 
abounded  in  the  monasteries,  churches,  and  convents  of  Madrid 
were  executed,  for  his  fame  as  a  religious  painter  was  well  estab- 
lished before  he  was  employed  by  Philip  IV,  to  whose  notice  he  was 
brought  by  Velasquez.  In  1671  he  was  appointed  court  painter  and 
deputy-aposentador  of  the  palace  by  Charles  II.  The  latter  in  his 
boyhood  he  had  painted  several  times,  and  now  to  further  the  king's 
negotiations  for  the  hand  of  the  French  princess,  Maria  Louisa, 
painted  him  on  horseback  in  armor,  for  the  inspection  of  Louis  XIV. 
He  executed  also  an  equestrian  portrait  of  the  lady  herself,  shortly 
after  her  arrival  in  Madrid.  The  queen  dowager,  Mariana,  on 
several  occasions  sat  to  him,  as  did  most  of  the  distinguished  people 
in  Madrid  during  the  first  half  of  Charles  IPs  reign.  He  died  full 
of  honors  in  1685.  The  best  of  his  pupils  was  Mateo  de  Cerezo 
(1635-1675),  celebrated  for  his  numerous  paintings  of  the  "Virgin 
of  the  Conception." 


n 

VELASQUEZ 

The  interest  attaching  to  Velasquez,  as  the  greatest  representative 
of  the  Spanish  school,  has  received  a  vital  importance,  through  the 
influence  he  has  exerted  over  modem  painting.  Yet  for  some  two 
hundred  years  his  greatness  had  been  overlooked  even  by  his  coun- 
trymen. Identified  with  the  court,  he  never  in  his  lifetime  gave 
pledges  to  popular  esteem  and  recollection ;  never,  as  Murillo,  fas- 
tened upon  the  imaginations  and  affections  of  the  people;  and  his 
death,  mourned  though  it  may  have  been  by  his  royal  friend  and 
master,  Philip  IV,  caused  but  a  ripple  of  disturbance  in  the  routine 
of  court  life,  while  after  the  death  of  that  monarch,  four  years  later, 
the  memory  of  the  artist  who  had  served  him  was  forgotten.  It  was 
not  until  the  nineteenth  century  in  the  early  fifties  that  connoisseurs 
and  painters  g^ew  to  be  aware  of  his  greatness,  and,  studying  his 
works,  began  to  find  in  them  a  clue  to  artistic  problems  that  had 
commenced  to  exercise  the  modern  mind.  For  in  those  two  hundred 
years  the  wheel  had  revolved,  and  what  had  been  the  artistic  motive 
of  the  Spanish  school  had  come  round  to  be  uppermost  as  a  motive 
in  the  art  of  France  and  England.  The  modem  artist  had  become 
intent,  like  the  Spanish  of  the  seventeenth  century,  upon  realism. 

Inasmuch,  then,  as  realism,  or,  if  you  will,  naturalism,  was  the 
basis  of  his  art,  Velasquez  was  at  one  with  the  other  painters  of  the 
Spanish  school.  He  differed  from  them  partly  in  the  circumstances 
of  his  life ;  partly,  and  much  more,  in  the  degree  and  quality  of  his 
genius.    While  other  painters  derived  their  patronage  wholly  or  for 

St 


82  OLD    SPANISH    MASTERS 

the  most  part  from  the  church,  Velasquez  owed  nothing  to  it;  re- 
Hgious  subjects  occupied  him  but  rarely ;  his  mind,  seldom  distracted 
by  the  mysteries  of  faith,  was  devoted  to  the  substance  of  things 
seen.  But  it  is  in  the  way  in  which  he  learned  to  see,  that  his  origi- 
nality and  genius  manifested  themselves.  Instead  of  seeing  through 
eyes  affected  by  the  traditions  of  the  studio,  he  looked  at  nature 
direct,  and  discovered  for  its  expression  a  manner  at  once  natural 
and  artistic.  In  a  word,  his  vision  comprehended,  not  only  the  form 
of  his  subject,  but  the  lighted  atmosphere  with  which  it  was  sur- 
rounded; he  saw  everything  in  its  natural  element  of  air.  And, 
further,  in  the  arrangement  of  his  forms  he  discovered  a  new  prin- 
ciple of  uniting  them  into  a  unity  of  effect.  For  the  arbitrary  artistic 
method  of  creating  an  ensemble  by  distribution  of  form,  color,  and 
chiaroscuro,  he  substituted  such  an  impression  of  the  scene  as  one 
derives  from  nature,  wherein  all  the  various  forms  and  colors  are 
brought  into  a  harmony  by  the  lighted  air.  How  he  gradually 
achieved  this  may  be  gathered  best  from  a  summary  of  his  artistic 
career. 

Diego  Rodriguez  de  Silva  y  Velasquez  was  born  at  Seville  in 
1599,  in  the  same  year  as  Vandyke  and  six  years  before  the  birth 
of  his  patron,  Philip  IV.  His  parents  were  of  gentle  blood.  Juan 
Rodriguez  de  Silva,  the  father,  was  descended  from  a  great  Portu- 
guese family  which  traced  its  pedigree  up  to  the  kings  of  Alba 
Longa:  and  the  mother,  Geronima  Velasquez,  by  whose  name,  ac- 
cording to  the  frequent  usage  of  Andalusia,  the  son  came  to  be 
known,  belonged  to  the  class  of  Hidalgos  or  lesser  nobility.  They 
gave  their  son  the  best  education  that  Seville  afforded,  but  though 
he  acquitted  himself  well  in  languages  and  philosophy,  he  showed  so 
marked  a  predilection  for  drawing,  that  they  yielded  to  his  desire  to 
be  an  artist.  He  was  apprenticed  to  Francisco  Herrera,  the  Elder, 
the  ablest  painter  in  Seville,  who  was  as  noted  for  his  dashingly 
effective  yet  natural  style  and  for  his  rapid  and  dexterous  brush- 
work,  as  he  was  notorious  for  the  violence  of  his  temper.  Velasquez, 
a  youth  of  gentle  disposition,  soon  tired  of  his  tyranny  and  sought  a 
more  equable,  though  less  capable,  master,  in  Francisco  Pacheco. 
But  the  latter,  as  we  have  already  noted,  in  his  official  capacity  of 


DON  OLIVAREZ.     BY  VELASQUEZ. 

PRADO    MUSEUM,    MADRID. 


VELASQUEZ  83 

inquisitor  of  paintings,  occupied  a  unique  position  in  the  city;  his 
house  was  the  rendezvous  of  artists  and  Hterary  men,  and  in  their 
companionship,  during  his  six  years'  sojourn  with  Pacheco,  Velas- 
quez no  doubt  acquired  that  refinement  of  manners  and  intellectual 
poise  which  were  to  serve  him  so  well  when  he  became  associated 
with  the  court.  His  studies  during  these  years  seem  to  have  been 
the  product  of  his  own  instinct  of  what  he  needed. 

He  was  early  of  the  opinion  that  nature  was  the  best  teacher  and 
industry  the  surest  end  to  perfection ;  resolved  never  to  draw  or  color 
an  object,  without  having  the  thing  itself  before  him,  and  that  he 
might  have  a  model  of  the  human  countenance  ever  at  hand,  kept, 
says  Pacheco,  "a  peasant  lad,  as  an  apprentice,  who  served  him  for 
a  study  in  different  postures— sometimes  crying,  sometimes  laugh- 
ing—till he  had  grappled  with  every  difficulty  of  expression;  execu- 
ting an  infinite  variety  of  heads  in  charcoal  and  chalk  on  blue  paper, 
by  which  he  arrived  at  certainty  in  taking  likenesses."  He  thus  laid 
the  foundation  of  the  inimitable  ease  and  perfection  with  which  he 
afterward  painted  heads.  To  acquire  facility  in  the  treatment  of 
color  he  devoted  himself  for  a  while  to  the  study  of  animals  and  still 
life,  and  these  bodegones,  judging  from  the  few  examples  that  still 
exist,  were  worthy  to  be  seen  alongside  of  the  best  work  of  the  Flem- 
ish artists.  His  third  step  in  self -instruction  was  the  painting  of 
subjects  in  low  life,  found  in  such  rich  and  picturesque  variety  in  the 
streets  of  Seville  and  the  country  roads  of  Andalusia,  and  to  the 
delineation  of  these  he  brought  a  fine  sense  of  humor  and  discrimina- 
tion of  character.  Whilst  thus  engaged  in  accurate  study  of  com- 
mon life  and  manner,  he  was  attracted  into  another  vein  by  the 
arrival  in  Seville  of  pictures  by  foreign  masters,  and  the  "Adoration 
of  the  Shepherds,"  now  in  the  National  Gallery,  London,  one  of  the 
results  of  this  influence,  was  clearly  inspired  by  the  manner  of  Ri- 
bera.  The  models  were  all  taken  from  low  life,  and  naturalism 
rather  than  beauty  or  dignity  was  the  end  sought.  To  those  who 
proposed  to  him  a  loftier  flight  and  suggested  that  he  base  his  style 
upon  Raphael's  he  replied,  that  he  would  rather  be  the  first  of  vulgar 
than  the  second  of  refined  painters. 

Velasquez  now  became  his  master's  son-in-law.    "At  the  end  of 


84  OLD    SPANISH    MASTERS 

five  years,"  writes  Pacheco,  "I  married  him  to  my  daughter,  Dona 
Juana,  moved  thereto  by  his  virtue,  honor,  and  excellent  qualities, 
and  the  hopefulness  of  his  great  natural  genius."  From  the  family 
picture  in  the  Imperial  Gallery  in  Vienna  it  appears  that  she  bore 
him  four  boys  and  two  girls.  But  nothing  is  known  of  their  domes- 
tic life,  except  its  close :  that,  after  nearly  forty  years  of  companion- 
ship, she  tended  his  dying  moments  and,  within  a  few  days,  followed 
him  to  the  grave. 

By  the  time  he  reached  the  age  of  twenty-three,  Velasquez  had 
learned  all  that  Seville  could  teach  him,  and  was  now  determined  to 
study  the  work  of  the  painters  of  Castile  and  the  masterpieces  in  the 
Royal  Galleries  of  Madrid.  He  set  out  thither  in  the  spring  of  1622, 
attended  by  a  single  servant,  and  furnished  by  his  father-in-law  with 
letters  of  introduction  to  distinguished  Sevillians,  resident  in  the 
capital,  among  others  to  Don  Juan  Fonseca,  usher  of  the  curtain  to 
Philip  IV.  This  gentleman  procured  him  admission  to  the  galleries, 
but  failed  to  win  for  him  the  notice  of  the  king,  so  that  after  some 
months'  study  Velasquez  returned  to  Seville.  Meanwhile  Fonseca 
had  secured  the  interest  of  the  prime-minister,  the  Count  Duke  Oli- 
varez,  whose  policy  was  to  preserve  his  own  authority  intact  by 
keeping  the  young  king  occupied  with  other  affairs  than  those  of 
state.  Accordingly,  a  few  months  after  his  return  home,  Velasquez 
received  a  summons  to  repair  to  court,  and,  attended  by  his  slave, 
Juan  Pare j  a,  a  mulatto  lad,  who  afterward  became  an  excellent 
painter,  reached  Madrid  for  the  second  time  in  1623.  He  lodged  in 
the  house  of  Fonseca  and  painted  the  latter's  portrait.  This  was 
carried  to  the  palace  and  shown  to  the  king ;  who  immediately  issued 
the  following  memorandum  to  the  official  in  charge  of  artistic  ap- 
pointments :  "I  have  informed  Diego  Velasquez  that  you  receive  him 
into  my  service,  to  occupy  himself  in  his  profession  as  I  shall  here- 
after command;  and  I  have  appointed  him  a  monthly  salary  of 
twenty  ducats,  payable  at  the  office  of  works  for  the  Royal  Palaces, 
the  Casa  del  Campo  and  the  Prado ;  you  will  prepare  the  necessary 
commission  according  to  the  form  observed  with  other  persons  of 
his  profession.    Given  at  Madrid  on  the  6th  of  April,  1623." 


VELASQUEZ  85 

Thus,  at  the  age  of  twenty-four,  Velasquez  passed  into  the  ser- 
vice of  a  king  of  eighteen  years.  The  latter  was  himself  no  mean 
painter,  and  already  an  excellent  judge  of  pictures.  Moreover  he 
was  a  prince  of  easy  disposition  and  simple  tastes,  who  learned  to 
find  in  the  society  of  his  favorite  painter  a  welcome  relief  from  the 
vexations  of  state  and  the  ennui  of  the  most  ptinctilious  court  in 
Christendom.  In  the  artist's  studio  he  could  disencumber  himself  of 
the  wrappages  of  etiquette  that  elsewhere  surrounded  him;  and  such 
was  the  frankness  of  Velasquez  that  he  would  adhere  to  nature  as 
closely  in  painting  a  portrait  of  the  king  as  in  painting  a  water-car- 
rier of  Seville  or  a  basket  of  pot-herbs  from  the  garden  of  the  Alcala. 
Between  prince  and  painter  there  grew  an  intimacy  of  companion- 
ship, as  creditable  to  the  one  as  to  the  other,  which,  except  for  the 
occasions  when  Velasquez  visited  Italy,  lasted  without  interruption 
for  some  twenty-seven  years. 

These  two  visits,  occurring  respectively  in  1630  and  1648,  form 
convenient  landmarks  in  the  artistic  development  of  Velasquez.  To 
the  period  preceding  the  first  visit,  belong  many  portraits:  "Bust  of 
Philip  in  armor"  and  "Philip  in  black,"  of  the  Prado;  and  "Philip" 
(young)  in  the  National  Gallery.  These,  like  the  portraits  of  Don 
Carlos,  the  Infanta  Maria,  and  the  poet  Gongora,  exhibit  a  certain 
hardness  in  the  modeling  and  sharp  shadows  against  an  empty  light 
background. 

While  thus  engaged  in  portraits  of  royalty,  he  found  time  for  the 
most  famous  of  his  subjects  of  low  life— "Los  Borrachos,"  or  "The 
Topers."  This  well-known  picture,  including  nine  figures  of  life- 
size,  represents  a  country  youth  masquerading  as  Bacchus,  nude  to 
the  waist  and  crowned  with  vine  leaves.  He  is  placing  a  garland  on 
the  head  of  a  boon  companion  who  kneels  before  him,  while  the  rest 
of  the  figures,  one  of  whom  is  nude,  are  seated  around  with  various 
expressions  of  merry  or  stupid  intoxication.  "Each  head  is  a  marvel 
of  handling,  of  modeling,  of  character,"  and,  as  Carl  Justi  writes, 
"Whoever  would  form  an  opinion  of  the  artist's  treatment  of  the 
nude  should  study  this  youthful,  soft,  yet  robust,  figure  of  Bacchus," 

In  the  summer  of  1628  Rubens  visited  Madrid,  as  envoy  for  the 


86  OLD  SPANISH  MASTERS 

Infanta  Archduchess  Isabella,  Governor  of  the  Low  Countries. 
Upon  Velasquez,  now  a  person  of  recognized  distinction,  occupying 
a  suite  of  apartments  in  the  palace,  devolved  the  privilege  of  escort- 
ing the  elder  artist,  the  most  famous  of  contemporary  painters, 
through  the  churches  and  galleries  and  of  being  present  in  his  studio 
as  he  painted  for  the  king.  The  two  were  in  close  intimacy  for  nine 
months,  during  which  the  advice  and  example  of  Rubens  increased 
the  design  of  Velasquez  to  visit  Italy.  After  many  promises  and 
delays  on  the  part  of  the  king,  Velasquez,  attended  by  his  trusty 
Pareja,  set  sail  from  Barcelona  in  the  train  of  the  great  captain, 
Spinola,  who  was  on  his  way  to  assume  the  government  of  the 
Duchy  of  Milan  and  the  command  of  the  Spanish  and  Imperial 
troops,  in  their  war  against  the  French.  Landing  in  Italy,  he  went 
direct  to  Venice,  where  he  studied  the  works  of  the  great  colorists, 
and  made  copies  of  Tintoretto's  "Crucifixion"  and  "Last  Supper." 
Then,  fearing  that  he  might  be  cut  off  from  the  south  by  the  arrival 
of  the  French,  he  abruptly  left  Venice,  and  after  a  hurried  journey, 
in  which  he  avoided  Florence,  reached  Rome.  Here  he  stayed  for 
nearly  a  year,  during  which  he  painted  "Joseph's  Coat"  and  the 
"Forge  of  Vulcan."  The  latter,  representing  Vulcan  and  his  Cy- 
clops in  their  murky  cavern,  listening  to  Apollo,  as  he  relates  the 
infidelity  of  Venus,  throws  a  curious  light  on  the  artist's  mental  atti- 
tude. Surrounded,  as  he  was,  by  examples  of  classic  sculpture,  he 
deliberately  ignored  their  suggestions  in  rendering  the  figure  of 
Apollo,  which  is  seen  as  that  of  a  tame  and  uninteresting  youth  in  a 
posture  almost  irritatingly  natural.  Its  tameness,  indeed,  is  a  dis- 
cordant note  in  a  composition  otherwise  virile  in  its  representation 
of  nude,  muscular  forms.  But  the  psychological  interest  of  the  pic- 
ture is  the  evidence  it  gives  of  Velasquez's  resolute  self-reliance; 
that  even  in  Rome  itself,  he  would  preserve  his  detachment  from  the 
classic  influence  and  follow  up  his  own  expressed  ideal  of  being  the 
first  of  the  vulgar,  rather  than  the  second  of  refined,  painters. 

In  the  autumn  of  1630  Velasquez  visited  Naples,  where  his 
urbanity  and  tact  combined  to  win  the  esteem,  without  incurring  the 
jealousy,  of  his  countryman,  Ribera.     By  the  following  spring  he 


3  Ii 


VELASQUEZ  87 

was  back  again  in  Madrid,  where  the  king  received  him  with  in- 
creased favor,  assigning  him  a  studio  that  commanded  a  view  of  the 
Elscorial  and  was  in  close  proximity  to  the  royal  apartments,  so  that 
the  companionship  between  the  two  became  more  unremitting  and 
intimate. 

The  time  which  now  ensued  until  his  second  visit  to  Italy,  con- 
veniently distinguished  as  his  middle  period,  was  signalized  by  a 
series  of  g^eat  equestrian  portraits,  commencing  with  those  of  the 
king  and  of  his  queen,  Margaret,  and  continuing  with  that  of  their 
son,  Don  Baltasar  Carlos  and  the  equestrian  Olivarez.  He  pro- 
duced also  one  of  his  few  sacred  subjects,  "The  Crucifixion,"  painted 
for  the  Benedictine  Convent  of  San  Placido;  and  the  famous  mural 
painting,  the  "Surrender  of  Breda." 

The  characteristic  common  to  every  one  of  these  pictures  and 
more  or  less  visible  in  all  the  work  of  this  middle  period,  is  the  deco- 
rative quality  of  the  compositions.  Olivarez,  as  a  means  of  distract- 
ing the  king's  mind,  both  from  the  melancholy  that  was  settling  over 
it,  and  from  the  complications  which  the  minister's  own  misgovem- 
ment  was  fomenting,  had  encouraged  the  erection  of  a  villa  and  the 
laying  out  of  beautiful  grounds  upon  the  outskirts  of  the  Prado.  To 
the  decoration  of  this  Buen  Retiro  the  king  was  now  committed, 
and  seven  painters  under  the  direction  of  Velasquez  were  employed 
upon  the  work.  It  was  to  replace  the  unsatisfactory  painting  of  one 
of  them  that  Velasquez  himself  tmdertook  the  "Breda."  But,  while 
this  circumstance  has  a  bearing  upon  the  decorative  tendency  in  the 
artist's  work  of  this  period,  it  does  not  seem  to  explain  it  entirely. 
The  more  reasonable  conclusion  is  that  Velasquez,  deeply  impressed 
with  the  gfrandeur  of  Venetian  painting  and  recogTiizing  its  depen- 
dence upon  the  decorative  motive,  was  deliberately  experimenting 
with  the  problem  of  reconciling  this  purely  pictorial  expedient  with 
his  own  expressed  ideal,  "verdad  no  />tM/«ro"— "truth,  not  painting." 

In  his  early  period,  following  the  traditions  of  the  Spanish  school 
and  his  own  emphatic  predilection,  he  had  set  nature  before  him  as 
sole  guide;  nor  could  any  of  the  Italian  masterpieces  in  the  royal 
galleries  make  him  deviate  from  the  direction  of  his  choice  and  con- 


88  OLD    SPANISH    MASTERS 

viction.  We  have  already  quoted  his  reply  to  those  who  would  have 
had  him  emulate  the  grace  and  dignity  of  Raphael ;  and  have  now  to 
see  how  the  excessive  vehemence  of  that  motive  was  to  be  modified, 
until  gradually  in  his  latest  period  he  achieved  a  natural  manner  that 
was  the  very  reverse  of  vulgar,  and  places  him  among  the  most 
aristocratic  of  artists. 

The  transitionary  step  appears  in  this  middle  period,  after  he  had 
seen  the  noblest  examples  of  Venetian  painting  in  their  proper  en- 
vironment upon  the  walls  of  palaces  and  churches.  There,  indeed, 
was  to  be  found  the  triumph  of  art  over  nature !  Not  alone  in  the 
choice  of  subject,  in  the  mingling  of  real  personages  with  spiritual 
or  allegorical  conceptions,  in  the  creation  of  a  spectacle  that  was  a 
product,  not  of  facts,  but  of  imagination;  but  in  a  technical  sense 
also  unnatural.  The  compositions,  for  example,  were  arranged,  not 
as  the  figures  would  comport  themselves  in  a  real  scene,  but  with  an 
arbitrary  artistic  intention,  primarily,  and  almost  exclusively,  of 
securing  the  dignity  of  flowing  lines  and  the  grandeur  of  contrasted 
masses.  The  unity  of  effect  was  further  secured  by  an  equally  arbi- 
trary distribution  of  the  chiaroscuro ;  while,  as  for  color,  the  part  it 
played  in  promoting  the  ensemble  and  giving  splendor — where  in  the 
prevailing  somberness  of  Spanish  court  life  was  Velasquez  to  find  its 
counterpart  ?  Once  more,  if  he  were  to  work  with  the  materials  at 
his  disposal  and  be  true  to  his  own  convictions,  in  what  way  could  he 
approximate  to  the  supremacy  of  art  over  nature,  as  exhibited  in 
Venetian  painting?  For,  though  art  may  be  inspired  and  based 
upon  nature,  nature  and  art  are  in  perpetual  antagonism,  and  the 
union  of  the  two  in  the  picture  must  be  the  efifect  of  a  compromise 
that,  however,  recognizes  the  supremacy  of  art.  Nature,  for  exam- 
ple, presents  itself  to  us  as  a  quantity  of  fragmentary  impressions, 
with  ragged  edges,  bits,  as  it  were,  torn  out  of  the  vast  and  illimit- 
able book  of  life.  On  the  contrary,  a  picture  should  be  a  little  king- 
dom in  itself,  complete,  harmonious,  self-engrossed. 

This  supremacy  of  art  over  nature  was  secured  by  Velasquez 
during  the  middle  period  of  his  career  through  suggestions  derived 
from  the  Venetians.    His  work  during  these  years  was  largely  of  a 


VELASQUEZ  89 

decorative  character,  and  the  most  perfect  example  of  it  is  the  "Sur- 
render of  Breda." 

One  of  its  motives  was  to  commemorate  an  achievement  of  his 
friend,  the  Marquis  Ambrogio  Spinola,  a  Genoese  by  birth,  but  by 
adoption  a  soldier  of  Spain.  He  was  the  last  of  her  g^eat  captains 
of  war,  while  the  event  to  be  made  memorable  was  to  prove  the  last 
of  her  important  victories— the  capture  in  1625  of  the  Dutch  strong- 
hold of  Breda.  Spinola  was  now  dead,  a  victim,  it  is  said,  of  the 
ingratitude  of  the  Spanish  court,  that  had  refused  to  acknowledge 
certain  financial  claims  to  which  he  believed  himself  entitled.  If  it 
were  so,  the  matter  sheds  an  interesting  light  upon  the  generous 
independence  of  Velasquez  and  upon  the  toleration  or  indifference 
of  Philip  IV.  For,  just  as  Velasquez  some  years  before  had  dared 
to  visit  his  benefactor,  Olivarez,  after  the  latter  had  been  disgraced 
and  banished  from  court,  so  now  he  set  himself  to  preserve  the  mem- 
ory of  Spinola.  And  he  has  done  so  in  one  of  the  grandest  historical 
pictures  that  exists. 

Prince  Justin  of  Nassau  has  ridden  out  from  the  city  and  Spinola 
has  ridden  to  meet  him,  both  attended  by  their  bodyguards.  They 
have  alighted  from  their  horses,  and  the  conqueror,  with  the  gracious 
courtesy  of  a  host  receiving  a  distinguished  guest,  bows  to  the  van- 
quished, at  the  same  time  placing  his  hand  on  the  latter's  shoulder, 
as  if  to  raise  him  from  his  attitude  of  humility.  The  two  figures 
form  the  knot  of  the  whole  composition,  and,  as  that  penetrating 
critic  R.  A.  M.  Stevenson  says,  "one  is  able  to  look  at  the  'Surrender 
of  Breda,'  and  imagine  the  center  cut  out,  and  yet  the  chief  senti- 
ments of  the  picture  preserved."  It  is  interesting  to  observe  that 
this  is  also  the  feeling  that  Mr.  Cole  seems  to  have  experienced. 
"The  dignity  of  the  two  figures,"  continues  Mr.  Stevenson,  "would 
be  scarcely  impaired  by  the  omission  of  surroundings  which,  how- 
ever well  put  in,  yet  exist  for  the  purpose  of  illustrative  and  deco- 
rative arrangement." 

The  latter  phrase  will  repay  consideration.  Every  historical 
picture,  inasmuch  as  it  illustrates  an  incident,  is  primarily,  though 
maybe  on  a  grandiose  scale,  an  illustration.    If  it  is  nothing  more, 


90  OLD   SPANISH    MASTERS 

its  appearance  as  a  mural  painting  on  the  walls  of  a  building  will 
appear  anomalous ;  the  more  dignified  the  building,  the  less  will  the 
illustration  accord  with  its  environment.  That  it  shall  do  so,  the 
painting  must  be  also  decorative.  While  it  is  fairly  easy  to  recog- 
nize a  painting  as  being  or  as  not  being  decorative,  it  is  difficult  to 
express  the  distinction  in  words.  Painters  seem  to  be  agreed  that 
to  gain  the  mural  quality  a  certain  flatness  of  painting  must  be  at- 
tained. Instead  of  a  succession  of  planes,  leading  back  into  distance, 
as  when  an  accordion  is  pulled  out,  the  instrument  must  be,  as  it 
were,  shut  tight,  that  the  planes  may  be  flattened  into  an  efifect 
rather  of  background  and  of  foreground.  The  composition,  further, 
must  have  something  of  the  patterning  of  tapestry ;  objects  counting 
as  masses,  not  over  njodeled,  but  giving  the  suggestion  of  form  as  a 
whole,  rather  than  any  elaborate  working  up  of  parts;  moreover, 
the  patterning  itself  will  have  a  certain  formal  character.  It  is  here, 
perhaps,  that  the  distinction  begins  to  emerge.  The  distribution  of 
forms  and  colors  must  be  formal,  corresponding  to  the  formality  of 
architecture,  which  has  in  it  nothing  of  nature.  In  a  word,  it  must 
savor  of  artificiality,  which  in  an  illustration  pure  and  simple  is 
abominable ;  while,  if  the  merit  of  the  illustration  be  its  naturalness, 
it  is  to  that  extent  less  good  as  decoration. 

But  a  compromise  between  artificiality  and  naturalness  was 
achieved  by  Velasquez  in  the  "Surrender  of  Breda."  The  central 
figures  are  rendered  with  the  intimacy  of  portraiture  and  made  to 
tell  the  whole  story,  while  the  accessory  groups  are  massed  and 
merged  with  an  artifice  that  makes  the  whole  foreground  count  as  a 
sustained  pattern  against  the  blues  of  the  background.  Velasquez, 
in  fact,  here  tempered  his  naturalism  with  pictorial  conventions 
learned  from  the  Venetians,  and  the  painting,  impressive  as  a  his- 
torical picture,  is  also  as  a  decoration  worthy  of  a  place  in  the 
Doge's  Palace.  Yet,  if  the  artist  had  died  after  executing  this  pic- 
ture, he  might  have  been  acclaimed  a  master,  but  the  world  would 
not  have  known  the  real  Velasquez. 

His  final  development  into  that  independence  which  passed  be- 
yond the  old  conventions,  and  laid  the  foundations  of  a  new  way  of 


THK   .SURRENDER   OF   BREDA   (THE   LANCES).     BV    VELASQUEZ. 


VELASQUEZ  9I 

seeing  and  representing  nature  is  revealed  in  his  late  period,  follow- 
ing the  second  visit  to  Italy  in  1648.  It  was  foreshadowed  in  the 
portrait  of  Pope  Innocent  X,  painted  while  he  was  in  Rome;  con- 
tinued through  such  masterpieces  as  "Philip  IV"  (old),  "i^sop," 
and  "Menippus,"  until  it  reached  its  climax  in  "The  Spinners"  and 
the  "Maids  of  Honor." 

For  Velasquez's  final  way  of  seeing  and  of  recording  what  he 
saw,  the  modern  taste  for  definition  has  coined  a  new  word— impres- 
sionism. It  implies,  in  the  first  place,  a  reliance  on  the  eye  instead 
of  on  the  understanding ;  in  the  case  of  the  painter,  a  rendering  of 
what  he  can  see,  instead  of  what  he  knows  to  be  there.  You  will 
appreciate  this  distinction  if  you  compare  a  charge  of  cavalry  painted 
by  Meissonier,  for  example,  his  "Friedland,  1807,"  with  one  of 
Degas's  pictures  of  race-horses,  grouped  around  the  starting-jxDSt. 
Meissonier's  bristles  with  elaborately  finished  details,  bits,  straps. 
Stirrups,  and  a  hundred  other  accessories  that  he  knew  to  be  there, 
and  executed  with  fidelity,  giving  about  equal  emphasis  to  every 
Horse  and  rider  and  all  their  details,  so  that  the  whole  is  a  mosaic  of 
minute  effects.  Degas,  on  the  contrary,  has  represented  the  horses 
and  jockeys  as  the  bunch  of  them  would  affect  the  eye  at  the  dis- 
tance from  which  it  views  them ;  and  given  them  the  same  relation 
to  the  course  and  other  incidental  figures  that  they  would  have  in 
the  general  coup  d'ceil.  He  has  recorded,  in  fact,  the  impression 
that  we  should  receive  from  the  actual  scene,  if  our  eyesight  were  as 
alert  and  comprehensive  as  his  own.  Thus  impressionism  records 
a  truth  of  general  aspect  more  vividly  than  the  untrained  eye  of  the 
layman  could  embrace  it.    It  heightens  the  sensation  in  ourselves. 

In  the  second  place,  the  artist,  thus  intent  on  the  truth  of  general 
aspect,  undistracted  by  the  triviality  of  non-essentials,  has  a  fresher 
and  more  penetrating  eye  for  the  qualities  that  are  essential:  the 
intrinsic  dignity  or  grace  of  mass  or  movement,  and  the  subtlety  of 
color.  Both  are  illustrated  in  the  "Menippus."  The  association  of 
the  figure  with  the  name  of  the  Greek  cynic-philosopher,  and  the 
introduction  of  the  manuscripts  to  help  out  the  idea,  may  well  have 
been  an  afterthought,  and  at  any  rate  are  of  second  importance. 


92  OLD    SPANISH    MASTERS 

The  picture,  primarily,  is  the  study  of  a  CastiHan  tramp,  a  bundle  of 
picturesque  rags,  who  wears  his  rusty  black  cloak  with  the  artless 
dignity  that  is  characteristic  of  even  the  beggars  of  Castile.  A 
truth  of  general  aspect ;  and  what  an  impressiveness  withal ;  nobility 
of  mass,  and  character  of  movement!  A  face  of  sly  familiarity, 
mingled  with  the  watchfulness  of  a  lynx ;  the  weight  on  the  left  leg, 
the  right  hip  raised,  the  hand  upon  it,  the  elbow  advanced— a  gesture 
half  of  assertion,  half  of  readiness  to  slink  away.  And  see  how  the 
angle  of  the  elbow  lifts  the  cloak  into  the  light.  Before  his  time  men 
painted  black  as  black;  but  Velasquez  "flushes  it  with  a  hundred 
nuances  of  greenish  light."  Restricted  in  variety  of  color  by  the 
somber  costumes  of  the  Castilian  court,  he  learned  to  find  his  satis- 
faction, as  a  colorist,  in  chromatic  tones  of  blacks,  whites,  grays, 
and  flesh  tints.  He  could  paint  a  figure  all  in  black,  as  the  "Menip- 
pus,"  and  yet  weave  the  blacks  into  a  web  of  colored  tissue.  In  this 
he  was  but  observing  and  recording  the  eflPects  of  nature's  light 
upon  the  local  color  of  the  object;  and  it  is  here  that  we  reach  the 
final  triumph  which  he  achieved  over  nature.  He  took  her  secref, 
and  out  of  it  fashioned  a  means  of  subordinating  her  effects  to  those 
of  art. 

In  nature  the  colors  of  objects  are  tempered  and  harmonized  by 
the  light;  even  the  garishness  of  a  flower  bed,  with  strongly  con- 
trasted colors,  is  mitigated,  if  you  step  back  until  a  certain  amount 
of  atmosphere  intervenes.  Borrowing  this  principle  from  nature, 
Velasquez  applied  it  to  his  art  and  thus  secured  a  new  kind  of  unity 
in  his  pictures — a  unity  of  tone,  corresponding  to  the  real  appear- 
ances of  nature.  For  the  unity  in  a  Venetian  painting  or  a  Rubens 
is  obtained  by  the  juxtaposition  and  relation  of  masses  of  local  color, 
drawn  closer  together  into  mellowness  by  a  thin  veil  of  some  trans- 
parent hue  brushed  over  the  whole.  It  is  the  result  of  a  pictorial 
convention. 

But  Velasquez,  a  determined  naturalist,  resented  means  so  arbi- 
trary ;  a  harmony  founded  on  natural  appearances  would  alone  suf- 
fice him.  Hence  in  the  language  of  the  modern  studio  he  extended 
realism  by  the  addition  of  the  milieu:  saw  his  figures  in  their  sur- 


VELASQUEZ  93 

rounding  of  lighted  atmosphere,  and  by  rendering  the  latter  with 
analytical  precision  secured  to  them  amazing  naturalness.  He  ren- 
dered, to  use  another  modern  term,  the  "values,"  that  is  to  say,  the 
exact  amount  of  light  given  oflF  from  every  part,  according  as  its 
plane  projects  or  recedes,  and  according  to  the  angle  at  which  the 
planes  receive  the  light. 

We  have  seen  how  by  this  means  he  expressed  the  nuances  of 
local  color.  By  the  same  means  he  established  a  natural  harmony 
of  tone  throughout  the  picture,  which  became  a  unified,  complex 
eflfect  of  colored  tissues.  For  he  painted  the  forms  as  they  appear 
in  natural  light;  not  enclosed  in  sharply  defined  contours,  but  as 
colored  masses,  the  edges  of  which  are  more  or  less  softened  or  even 
obscured  by  light  or  shadow ;  the  line,  here  pronounced,  there  eva- 
sive, or  disappearing.  And,  rendering  thus  the  values,  he  created 
the  illusion  of  atmosphere,  and  consequently  of  space  and  distance, 
producing  an  aerial  perspective  of  extraordinarily  subtle  veracity, 
seen  to  perfection  in  the  "Maids  of  Honor." 

In  this  connection  let  me  quote  Mr.  Stevenson,  who  was  himself 
an  artist.  "When  a  lady  in  a  brightly-colored  hat  passes  one  of 
Velasquez's  canvases,  it  is  true  that  you  see  the  whole  picture  of  one 
tone  in  contrast  to  the  hat.  Yet  the  key  is  so  subtly  varied  and  so 
delicately  nuanced,  that  the  picture,  unless  through  such  a  contrast, 
appears  to  be  a  luminous  tissue  of  air,  not  definitely  red,  black,  green, 
or  yellow.  But  the  'Maids  of  Honor'  even  when  subjected  to  this 
test  of  contrast  with  real  people  sitting  on  a  bench  before  it,  pre- 
serves its  appearance  of  truth  and  natural  vigor.  Its  color  relations 
continue  to  look  as  subtle  and  as  naturally  complex  as  before;  and 
when  you  look  at  both  nature  and  the  picture,  your  eye  only  seems 
to  pass  from  one  room  to  another.  The  sense  of  space  and  round- 
ness in  the  real  room  is  not  greater  than  in  the  painted  room." 

In  this  masterpiece  Velasquez's  genius  is  most  characteristically 
exhibited.  The  picture  contains  nothing  of  the  material  and  con- 
trivances usual  in  works  of  the  grand  style.  Instead  of  noble  or 
graceful  figures,  in  beautiful  garments  that  oflFer  flowing  lines  of 
draf)ery,  built  up  into  an  imposing  composition  of  form,  nearly  two 


94  OLD    SPANISH    MASTERS 

thirds  of  this  canvas  consists  of  walls  and  ceiling,  below  which  at 
the  bottom  of  the  picture  the  figures  are  disposed.  The  center  of 
the  group  is  the  little  Infanta  Maria  Marguerita,  to  whom  a  maid  of 
honor,  kneeling,  presents  a  glass  of  water,  while  another  maid  bends 
forward  in  an  obeisance — gracious  personages,  all  of  them,  but  dis- 
figured by  the  ridiculous  guarda-infanta  or  extravagant  farthingale 
and  by  the  stiif  ungainly  corsets.  To  the  right  stand  two  ugly 
dwarfs,  one  resting  his  foot  on  a  recumbent  hound.  The  latter,  and 
the  artist  himself,  who  is  seen  on  the  left,  painting  upon  a  tall  can- 
vas, represent  the  only  forms  of  actual  dignity  in  the  picture.  What 
could  Titian  have  made  of  such  material  ?  It  is  scarcely  conceivable 
that  he  would  have  essayed  the  problem. 

That  it  was  presented  to  Velasquez  came  about,  we  are  told, 
from  a  casual  circumstance.  He  was  engaged  in  painting  a  portrait 
of  the  king  and  queen.  They  were  seated,  as  their  reflection  in  the 
mirror  at  the  end  of  the  room  shows,  outside  of  the  frame  of  the 
present  picture,  when  an  interruption  occurred.  The  little  princess 
entered  with  her  maids  of  honor  and  dwarfs ;  she  asked  for  a  drink 
of  water,  and  with  the  usual  formality  of  court  etiquette  it  was  pre- 
sented to  her.  The  king  was  charmed  with  the  effect  of  the  group 
and  demanded  that  Velasquez  should  make  a  picture  of  it.  Abating 
nothing  of  the  realism,  depending,  indeed,  upon  it,  he  did  so. 

In  taking  in  the  impression  of  the  scene,  he  comprehended  the 
significance  not  only  of  the  figures,  but  of  the  lofty  spacious  apart- 
ment in  which  the  incident  was  seen.  I  spoke  a  moment  ago  of  walls 
and  ceiling,  for  to  any  other  artist  of  the  period  this  would  have 
seemed  to  be  the  outlying  environment  of  the  figures.  Not  so  to 
Velasquez.  He  was  conscious  of  the  space  enclosed  by  them.  It  is 
the  spaciousness  of  the  lofty  room,  filled  with  luminous  atmosphere, 
flooded  with  light  in  the  foreground,  where  the  main  figures  are 
grouped,  growing  dimmer  toward  the  distance,  mysteriously  shad- 
owed overhead,  that  he  realized  and  painted.  Thus,  the  two  thirds 
of  the  canvas,  which  in  other  hands  would  have  been  more  o*-  less  of 
a  barren  waste,  becomes  in  his  the  most  truly  significant  portion  of 
the  composition,  assuaging  the  crudity  of  the  forms  and  lifting  up 


THE  MENIPPUS.     BV  VKI.ASQUEZ. 

nunn  MIlUIrM,    HADKIU. 


VELASgUEZ  95 

one's  consciousness  of  the  realism  to  a  point  where  the  imagination 
can  play  around  it. 

Since  he  modeled  and  composed  in  light,  the  environment  of 
atmosphere  became  to  him  a  source  of  grandeur,  a  new  "grand 
style,"  diflfering  from  that  of  the  Venetians,  because  it  was  based  on 
nature.    And,  as  we  have  remarked,  it  appeals  to  the  imagination. 

It  is  not  unusual  for  jieoplc  to  regard  realism  as  incompatible 
with  imagination.  Velasquez,  they  conclude,  was  lacking  in  it,  be- 
cause he  was  a  realist.  Such  an  offhand  conclusion  is  the  result  of 
the  too  frecjuent  tendency  to  base  a  judgment  of  a  work  of  art  upon 
its  subject.  If  the  latter  represents  something  that  the  eye  of  the 
artist  has  never  looked  on,  but  incidents  and  features  that  he  has 
conjured  up  out  of  his  mind,  such  is  called  ideal,  and  a  work  of  the 
imagination.  Especially  is  this  the  case  if  the  subject  be  religious 
or  mythological.  In  time,  however,  students  of  painting,  extending 
their  survey  of  pictures  of  various  kinds,  good,  bad,  and  indifferent, 
begin  to  discover  how  little  the  subject  has  to  do  with  the  merit  of 
the  picture;  that,  for  example,  there  are  numerous  "Descents  from 
the  Cross"  but  that  only  one  or  two,  like  that  of  Rubens,  make  a 
profound  impression.  They  learn  that  an  exalted  subject  may  be 
treated  meanly,  and  a  humble  one  may  be  exalted  by  its  treatment : 
that,  in  fact,  the  final  result  is  determined,  not  by  the  subject,  but  by 
the  technical  skill  and  quality  of  mind  of  the  artist.  By  this  time 
they  are  in  a  condition  to  appreciate  the  distinctions  that  exist 
among  realistic  painters:  that  one  man  may  be  satisfied  to  paint 
merely  what  is  apparent  to  his  ocular  vision,  while  another's  mind 
is  so  filled  with  the  truth  of  things  and  their  meaning  and  sugges- 
tion, that  he  stirs  in  us  other  senses  than  that  of  sight  alone,  and  so 
vividly  that  our  imagination  is  rendered  active,  until  we  feel  the 
realism  in  the  fuller  sense  in  which  it  kindled  the  imagination  of  the 
artist. 

After  his  second  visit  to  Italy  Velasquez  had  been  appointed 
aposentador-mayor,  or  quartermaster-general,  of  the  king's  house- 
hold, a  position  of  great  dignity,  but  involving  onerous  duties. 
Among  these  it  was  his  business  to  superintend  all  public  festivals. 


96  OLD    SPANISH    MASTERS 

Consequently,  when  the  marriage  of  the  Infanta  Maria  Teresa  with 
Louis  XIV  had  been  negotiated,  the  burden  of  arranging  the  impos- 
ing ceremonies  fell  upon  Velasquez.  The  spot  selected  for  the  meet- 
ing of  their  Catholic  and  Christian  majesties  was  the  debatable 
ground  of  the  Isle  of  Pheasants  in  the  river  Bidassoa,  which  sepa- 
rated the  two  kingdoms.  Here  Velasquez  erected  a  pavilion,  richly 
decorated  with  tapestries  and  furniture  brought  from  Madrid.  But 
the  strain  of  the  occasion  proved  too  much  for  his  strength.  A 
rumor  that  he  was  already  dead  had  reached  Madrid,  when  he  re- 
turned home  to  linger  for  a  month.  On  the  31st  of  July,  1660,  under 
an  attack  of  fever,  he  succumbed,  in  his  sixty-first  year.  He  was 
buried  with  great  pomp  in  the  Church  of  San  Juan,  an  edifice  which 
the  French  pulled  down  in  181 1.  The  only  monument  to  his  mem- 
ory, erected  later  by  his  countrymen,  is  a  bas-relief,  placed  on  the 
pedestal  of  the  equestrian  statue  of  Philip  IV,  representing  the  king 
bestowing  on  the  artist  the  order  of  a  Knight  of  Santiago. 

For  two  hundred  years  after  his  death  the  fame  of  Velasquez 
slumbered.  Then  at  the  Manchester  exhibition  of  1857  a  consider- 
able number  of  his  works  were  shown ;  and  three  years  later  he  was 
discovered  by  the  French.  His  biography  by  Stirling-Maxwell  was 
translated  into  French,  the  comments  on  his  work  by  Charles  Blanc, 
Theophile  Gautier,  and  Paul  Lefort  attracted  the  attention  of  paint- 
ers. His  first  and  most  enthusiastic  follower  was  Manet,  under 
whose  leadership  began  the  movement  which  has  revolutionized  in 
modern  times  the  method  of  painting. 


NOTES  BY  THE  ENGRAVER 

VELASQUEZ  is  the  soul  of  Span-  of  "Los  Borrachos,"  or  "The  Topers" ; 

ish  art,  as  Rembrandt  is  of  Dutch  the  second  in  his  forty-eighth ;  and  the 

art.    His  art  is  divided  into  three  pe-  third  with  his  death,  at  the  age  of 

riods,  the  first  ending  in  his  thirtieth  sixty-one,  in  1660.    The  picture  which 

year,  and  marked  by  his  great  picture  marks  the  final  period  is  his  last  and 


^  c   c 


THE   HEAD   OF   A   YOUNG   MAN.     BY   VELASQUEZ. 

IN   'JHE    COLLECTION    OP  THK   DLKE    OF    WELLINGTON,  APSLEV    HOl'SE,    LONDON. 


VELASQUEZ 


97 


greatest,— "Las  Meninas,"— the  finest 
canvas  in  the  world,  as  indicating  the 
high-water  mark  of  realism. 

The  "Equestrian  Portrait  of  Oiiva- 
rez,"  now  in  the  Prado,  is  painted  in 
the  artist's  second  manner.  Olivarez 
was  prime  minister  of  Spain  during 
the  first  half  of  the  forty-four  years 
of  the  reign  of  Philip  IV.  He  quickly 
recognized  the  genius  of  Velasquez, 
who  was  then  twenty-four  years  old, 
and  brought  him  to  the  notice  of  the 
more  youthful  king.  He  was  his  con- 
stant friend  thereafter,  and  it  is  worthy 
of  record  that  in  the  minister's  down- 
fall and  disgrace,  when  all  but  a  few 
of  his  friends  had  deserted  him,  the 
artist  was  prominent  among  those  few 
who  could  still  attest  their  gratitude 
by  personally  visiting  the  old  man  in 
his  exile  at  the  risk  of  incurring  the 
displeasure  of  the  court. 

Olivarez  doubtless  possessed,  in  pri- 
vate life,  estimable  traits  that  endeared 
him  to  such  discerning  spirits  as  Ve- 
Iasquez,but  as  a  statesman  it  is  recorded 
that  he  was  the  most  unscrupulous 
and  powerful  of  the  seventeenth  cen- 
tury. He  was  always  raving  for  war 
and  protesting  that  he  could  not  live 
without  it  Thus  he  kindled  a  confla- 
gration, to  the  ruin  of  the  land,  "losing 
more  territories  to  the  Castilian  crown 
than  it  has  been  the  fortune  of  few 
great  conquerors  ever  to  have  gained" 
(Stirling-Maxwell).  He  who  stirred 
up  so  many  wars  now  wished,  finally, 
to  see  himself  seated  in  the  saddle  as 
a  general  of  cavalry,  although  he  had 
never  so  much  as  smelt  the  odor  of 
battle.  Girl  Justi,  referring  to  this 
portrait,  says:  "The  general  is  un- 
doubtedly a  humbug,  just  as  his  brown 
hair  is  a  sham.  His  habits  were  any- 
thing but  military,  and  his  enemies 
sneered  at  this  lieroic  minister'  and 
'grand  old  man,'  who  was  so  delicate 


that  he  refused  to  go  on  board  a  ves- 
sel, as  at  Barcelona,  in  1632,  for  fear 
of  sea-sickness.  When  his  portrait 
was  exposed  for  sale  in  Madrid,  in 
1635,  >^  was  pelted  with  stones,  and  the 
same  occurred  again  at  Saragossa,  in 
1642. 

"But  these  are  outward  considera- 
tions, and  it  must  be  admitted  that  the 
figure  suits  well  the  assumed  role.  So 
true  is  this  that,  were  the  subject  un- 
known, he  would  perhaps  be  taken  for 
some  leader  of  invincible  'Ironsides'  in 
the  great  war.  In  fact,  the  French 
critic,  Charles  Blanc,  describes  the  pic- 
ture as  that  of  a  hero  leading  the 
charge  without  bluster  or  ostentation." 

Velasquez  made  many  portraits  of 
his  powerful  patron,  but  in  this  one, 
showing  him  mounted  on  his  Anda- 
lusian  bay,  it  is  considered  that  he 
strove  to  outdo  himself.  In  composi- 
tion it  lays  no  claim  to  originality, 
since  Rubens  and  Vandyke  had  done 
similar  things  before,  which  Velasquez 
had  seen  and  doubtless  studied,  and  the 
position  of  the  figure  upon  the  horse 
is  generally  criticized  as  being  too  far 
forward  upon  the  neck  of  the  animal ; 
but  as  a  tissue  of  rare  and  subtle  tones, 
of  subdued  and  sonorous  harmonies 
of  color,  it  ranks  with  the  most  refined 
canvases  of  the  world. 

To  give  a  crude  idea  of  the  coloring, 
we  may  say  that  the  figure  is  clad  in 
black  armor,  the  jointings  of  which 
are  edged  with  gold;  the  hat  is  dark 
gray,  with  purple  plume;  the  scarf  is 
gold-embroidered  and  wine-colored ; 
the  boots  are  of  a  warm,  grayish  color ; 
and  the  saddle  is  old  gold,  mingling 
with  the  golden  fringe  of  the  scarf. 
These  tones  appear  to  great  advantage 
upon  the  chestnut  horse  and  against 
the  delicate  grays  of  the  clouded  sky, 
the  blue  passages  of  which  are  of  a 
warm  greenish  tint.    The  whole  of  the 


98 


OLD  SPANISH  MASTERS 


sky  and  the  background  is  bathed  in  a 
greenish  cast,  and  the  foHage  behind 
the  figure  comes  out  with  brighter 
touches  of  green,  giving  the  impres- 
sion of  spring  leaves.  This  is  a  spe- 
cially charming  bit,  and  so  modern  in 
treatment  that  nothing  at  present  could 
surpass  it.  In  the  distance,  the  um- 
bery  tones  of  which  become  richer 
toward  the  foreground,  is  seen  the 
smoke  of  battle  and  the  marching  of 
soldiers. 

This  canvas  measures  approximately 
ten  feet  three  inches  high,  by  seven 
feet  ten  inches  wide,  and  was,  accord- 
ing to  Carl  Justi,  painted  about  1636. 

The  "Portrait  of  King  Philip  IV  as 
a  Sportsman,"  which  hangs  in  the 
Prado  Museum,  Madrid,  shows  the 
king  at  nearly  thirty  years  of  age. 
Velasquez  was  about  thirty-six  when 
he  painted  it.  It  belongs  to  his  sec- 
ond period,  and  is  a  most  charming 
example  of  his  coloring.  The  king,  we 
see,  was  of  a  blond  complexion,  and 
his  pale  face  is  in  the  highest  relief 
against  deep,  soft  umbery  and  olive- 
toned  foliage.  He  is  clad  in  a  hunting- 
costume,  the  jacket  and  hat  of  which 
are  of  an  olive  shade,  similar  in  tone  to 
the  background.  The  leggings  and 
trousers  are  black,  and  the  gloves  of 
a  soft  buff  shade.  The  sleeve  is  a  very 
dark  blue,  relieved  with  gold  embroi- 
dery, and  the  dog  of  a  brownish-yellow 
color.  The  hands,  being  gloved,  are 
thus  in  a  natural  way  subordinated  to 
the  face,  and  the  dog  is  still  more  sub- 
dued; its  features  especially  are  soft- 
ened. The  clouded  sky,  which  is  of  a 
warm  gray  flushed  with  a  delicate 
purple  tone,  breaks  golden  toward  the 
horizon,  and  the  dark  distant  hills  are 
of  a  purple  hue,  which  floats  mysteri- 
ously into  the  greenish  color  of  the 
trees  on  the  right  and  the  umbery  and 
brownish  shades  of  the  foreground. 


The  sweetness  and  the  harmony  of 
these  simple  tones  and  the  richness  of 
the  ensemble— its  impalpable  umbery 
warmth  and  subtle  breath  of  purple 
and  gold— make  it  something  to  be 
felt  and  remembered  rather  than  de- 
scribed. The  royal  sportsman  was  reck- 
oned the  best  shot  of  his  time  and  the 
stoutest  of  hunters.  He  frequented 
the  bull-ring,  and  on  the  occasion  of  a 
great  fete,  when  a  certain  bull,  the 
hero  of  the  day,  displayed  extraordi- 
nary valor  in  vanquishing  every  an- 
tagonist, the  king,  struck  by  his  prow- 
ess, thought  him  worthy  the  honor  of 
dying  by  his  own  hand.  So,  seated  on 
high,  he  raised  his  gun,  and  amid  an 
impressive  silence  shot  the  creature 
through  the  forehead. 

Of  all  the  beautiful  things  that  Ve- 
lasquez has  left  us,  the  portrait  of  the 
young  prince,  Don  Baltasar  Carlos,  on 
his  pony  takes  precedence  for  sparkle 
and  vivacity  of  color,  and  is  esteemed 
by  many  as  the  most  perfect  example 
of  the  artist's  second  manner — a  man- 
ner differentiated  from  his  previous 
style  by  stronger  individualization, 
greater  purity  of  tone  and  color,  and 
a  richer  technique,  which  he  varies 
according  to  the  sentiment  of  his  im- 
pression. But  that  rounded  whole,  the 
complete  ensemble,  is  the  triumph  of 
his  third  and  latest  phase. 

The  subject  here  was  doubtless  an 
inspiration  to  the  painter,  for  the  little 
fellow,  the  hope  and  pride  of  his 
father,  Philip  IV,  was  but  seven  years 
old,  and  already  at  that  tender  age  was 
one  of  the  most  fearless  and  graceful 
of  riders,  with  a  steed  the  most  mettle- 
some and  sprightly.  The  result  is,  as 
Carl  Justi  remarks,  "all  that  is  capti- 
vating in  a  creation  of  the  pictorial  art 
— life  and  motion,  all-pervading  Hght 
and  prospect  in  the  distance,  air  and 
luster,  mass  and  contrast,  the  soul  of 


VELASyUEZ 


99 


the  artist  and  comummate  mastery  of 
his  technique."  All  of  which  we  con- 
cede; but  the  "motion"  is  that  of  the 
hobby-horse  rather  than  of  the  real 
live  animal.  Indeed,  I  have  often  heard 
this  work  objected  to  on  this  score— 
the  hind  legs  of  the  creature  glued  to 
the  ground,  as  it  were,  with  its  rounded 
belly  also  strongly  suggesting  the  com- 
parison. But  motion  in  the  horse  is 
one  of  the  latest  acquisitions  of  the  art 
of  our  day,  and  was  undreamed  of  by 
Velasquez,  who,  in  his  equestrian  por- 
traits, followed  the  conventional  stat- 
uesque form  of  bygone  times.  In  this 
portrait  of  the  prince,  the  statuesque 
feeling  is  further  aided  by  the  mar- 
shal's baton,  which  he  holds  extended  in 
his  hand.  The  same  type  of  fat-bellied 
pony  may  still  occasionally  be  seen  in 
Spain,  with  the  rich  long  mane  and  tail 
that  the  Spaniards  are  fond  of  seeing 
in  their  horses. 

The  engraved  detail  gives  the  most 
interesting  portion.  The  child  is  decked 
in  all  his  bravery- :  black  hat  and  plume 
setting  off  the  subtle  flesh-tone  of  the 
face,  which  is  a  marvel  of  handling 
and  character ;  body  of  coat,  black  vel- 
vet, with  outflying  cajje ;  collar,  white ; 
icmrf,  wine-colored,  with  golden  fringe ; 
rich  golden-colored  sleeves  and  yellow 
gk>ves ;  saddle,  rich  golden  gray ;  and 
chamois-skin  boots.  All  this  against 
the  fine  bay  color  of  the  pony  and  up- 
on the  deep  greenish  blue  of  the  back- 
ground sky  makes  verily  a  gem  of 
tone  and  harmony.  Not  the  least  in- 
teresting portion  of  the  picture  is  the 
background,  with  its  distant  snow-clad 
mountains  and  middle  landscape  bathed 
in  an  ocean  of  blue  light,  and  recog- 
nizable as  the  elevated  environs  to  the 
north  of  Madrid. 

It  u  a  large  canvas,  measuring  six 
feet  ten  inches  high  by  four  feet  eight 
inches  wide,  horse  and  rider  being  life- 


size.  It  was  painted  about  the  year 
1635,  when  the  artist  was  about  thirty- 
six  years  old,  and  after  his  first  visit 
to  Italy. 

"The  Surrender  of  Breda,"  from 
which  I  have  engraved  the  detail  of 
the  principal  characters,  was  painted 
by  Velasquez  for  King  Philip  IV  in 


-4iiiiilllii] 


KBv  ow  "TNI  nmuaiDni  or  sskoa 


1647,  and  was  one  of  the  latest— cer- 
tainly the  most  important  and  best— 
of  the  works  of  the  artist  executed  be- 
fore his  second  visit  to  Italy,  in  1648. 
It  marks  the  culmination  of  his  second 
period. 

"The  Surrender  of  Breda"  is  also 
styled  "The  Lances,"  from  the  number 
of  pikes  which  form  a  conspicuous  fig- 
ure in  its  composition,  striping,  as  they 
do,  the  blue  sky  to  the  right  of  the  pic- 
ture. The  subject  represents  an  im- 
portant event  in  the  history  of  Spain 
which  happened  in  1625.  It  also  gives 
us  a  living  portrait  of  "the  last  great 
general  Spain  ever  had,"  Ambrogio 
Spinola,  who,  by  the  way,  was  an  Ital- 
ian and  an  esteemed  friend  of  the 
painter. 

It  is  a  large  canvas,  measuring  ap- 
proximately ten  feet  high  by  twelve 
feet  wide,  with  figures  of  life-size.  The 
Spaniards  are  on  the  right,  headed  by 
the  victorious  General  Spinola,  and  the 
Hollanders  form  the  opposite  group. 


lOO 


OLD    SPANISH    MASTERS 


from  which  the  vanquished  leader. 
Prince  Justin  of  Nassau,  bends  for- 
ward, advancing  toward  Spinola,  and 
resigning  the  key  of  the  fortress.  This 
the  latter  generously  ignores,  and  pre- 
pares to  embrace  his  fallen  foe,  and 
doubtless  to  praise  him  on  his  valorous 
defense,  for  "he  held  the  fort  with 
stubborn  resistance."  It  is  a  trying 
and  delicate  moment,  but  the  artist  has 
depicted  it  with  consummate  skill, 
placing  us  into  sympathy  with  the  sit- 
uation. How  well  he  invests  the  whole 
figure  of  the  Italian  with  the  kindly 
and  courteous  air  of  the  perfect  gen- 
tleman! The  Dutchman  shows  in  his 
whole  person  the  sense  of  defeat. 

The  whole  is  rich  and  powerful  in 
color  and  low  in  tone.  The  Spanish 
general  is  clad  in  a  coat  of  mail  riveted 
with  brass,  and  he  wears  buff  boots. 
He  holds  in  his  right  hand  a  field- 
glass  and  his  hat,  from  which  projects 
a  white  plume.  From  his  shoulder 
hangs  a  wine-colored  silk-scarf,  which 
flows  in  folds  behind.  The  Dutch 
leader  is  loosely  clad  in  a  full  habit  of 
a  warm-brown  tone,  which  is  orna- 
mented with  gold  braidings  that  glint 
and  sparkle  softly  in  the  relief  of  its 
folds,  giving  it  pleasing  variety.  His 
thick  boots  are  of  a  similar  warm- 
brown  tone,  with  flapping  tops,  and 
his  limp  costume  presents  a  contrast  to 
the  trim  elegance  of  his  conqueror. 

The  scene  is  laid  upon  an  eminence. 
Behind,  and  lower  down,  are  soldiers 
marching,  and  off  in  the  distance 
stretch  the  lowlands  of  Holland,  with 
Breda  and  its  smoking  .fortifications. 

On  quitting  Madrid  for  Rome  to 
engrave  the  famous  portrait  of  In- 
nocent X,  I  wa%  warned  by  Seiior 
Beruete,  a  profound  and  noted  stu- 
dent in  all  things  pertaining  to  Ve- 
lasquez, that  I  should  be  disappointed 
in  the  head.    I  hardly  expected,  how- 


ever, on  confronting  the  picture  in  the 
Doria  gallery,  to  experience,  as  I  did, 
so  palpable  a  confirmation  of  the  truth 
of  his  conviction.  The  canvas  was  not 
painted  from  life,  but  after  the  studies 
from  life  that  the  artist  made  of  his 
illustrious  model— studies  which  exist, 
one  in  the  hermitage  of  St.  Peters- 
burg and  the  other  in  the  Duke  of 
Wellington's  collection  in  London. 
These  studies  are  far  finer  as  portraits, 
being  broader  and  softer  in  treatment, 
and  replete  with  those  evasive,  uncon- 
scious, and  spontaneous  touches  which 
the  presence  of  nature  inspires  in  the 
artist  working  directly.  It  is  these 
subtle,  living  qualities,  these  impal- 
pable essences,  that  one  feels  are  miss- 
ing from  this  head  of  the  Doria  palace. 
The  chief  merit  of  the  work  rests  in 
its  composition  and  its  splendid  color- 
ing. Velasquez  at  that  time  (1648) 
was  imbued  with  the  Venetian  color- 
ing, and  had  but  lately  arrived  from 
Venice,  where,  as  well  as  at  other 
towns  in  Italy,  he  had  been  occupied 
in  buying  pictures  for  Philip  IV.  The 
portrait  of  the  Pope  that  he  painted  at 
that  time  is  quite  Venetian  in  its  rich- 
ness. The  splendid  golden-brown  back- 
ground curtain  seems  flushed  with  the 
rich,  soft  tones  of  the  red  dress,  the 
skullcap,  and  the  red  leather  of  the 
back  of  the  chair.  It  is  all  in  a  fine, 
rich,  mellow  tone  of  red,  and  the  white 
vestment  and  sleeves,  though  very  low 
and  warm  in  tone,  tell  as  a  glowing 
value.  Yet  the  eye  is  not  held  by  it, 
but  goes  at  once  to  the  head  for  the 
reason  that  the  gilded  decoration  of 
the  chair-back,  coming  in  close  prox- 
imity to  the  head,  serves  to  direct  the 
attention  to  the  face.  It  is  very  sur- 
prising, one  may  think,  that,  with  so 
much  detail, — everything  worked  up 
uncompromisingly  to  the  force  and 
brilliancy  of  nature, — the  eye  goes  nat- 


•     •     •  . . .  ■  .      •••  •  \»  *•■•■» 


I'OI'K 


INNrKENT  X.     BV  VEI  ASofKZ. 

iv    THC  Di'lIU  rAUtCm,   lOHt. 


VELASQUEZ 


lOI 


urally  to  the  head  and  is  held  there. 
But  it  is  this  gilded  square  of  the  chair- 
back  that  is  the  secret  of  it,  for  re- 
move this,  and  it  will  be  felt  imme- 
diately how  important  a  factor  it  is  in 
the  composition,  not  only  for  its  color 
but  for  its  sharp  angles,  which  offset 
the  many  flowing  lines  of  the  other 
parts. 

But  Velasquez  was  indebted  to  El 
Greco,  his  predecessor,  for  this  ar- 
rangement; for  there  exists  in  a  pri- 
vate collection  in  Madrid  a  life-size 
portrait  of  a  monk  seated  in  a  sqture- 
backed  chair,  the  whole  conception  of 
which  is  exactly  similar.  He  holds  a 
book,  instead  of  a  paper,  in  his  hand. 
Again,  at  an  exhibitk)n  of  El  Greco's 
works  given  last  year  at  Madrid,  there 
was  shown  a  life-size  portrait,  full- 
length,  of  a  seated  cardinal  in  red  and 
white,  which  for  pose  and  coloring  re- 
called strongly  this  of  Pope  Inix)cent 
X.  This  is  another  evidence  of  the 
esteem  in  which  Velasquez  held  the 
genius  of  El  Greco. 

In  this  portrait  of  Innocent  X,  the 
brief  in  the  left  hand  carries  the  in- 
scription :  "Innocenzo  X,"  and  the 
signature  of  the  painter,  "Diego  de 
Silva  Velasquez." 

I  was  never  more  impressed  with 
the  power  of  the  great  Spaniard  than 
while  engraving  the  "Head  of  a  Young 
Man,"  which  is  in  the  Duke  of  Wel- 
lington's collectwn  at  Apsley  House, 
London.  Its  magnificent  technique  is 
beyond  all  praise.  It  is  a  virile  head, 
treated  in  a  manly  way,  and  a  more 
splendid  example  of  strong,  squarely 
defined  shadows,  combined  with  ex- 
quisite finesse  of  modeling,  would  be 
difficult  to  find,  unless,  indeed,  among 
the  master's  own  works.  It  belongs 
evidently  to  the  third  and  most  ma- 
tured style  of  the  artist,  resembling,  in 
its  impressional  unity,  refinement  of 


drawing,  and  breadth  and  mystery  of 
chiaroscuro,  the  wonderful  "Msop"  of 
the  Prado.  Note  the  masterly  contour 
of  the  forehead,  or  the  well-defined 
shadow  about  the  nostril  in  contrast 
with  the  subtle  delineation  of  the  nose 
in  the  fusion  of  its  boundary  with  the 
off  cheek,  or  the  fluency  of  the  model- 
ing in  the  broad  masses  of  light.  An 
anatomist  would  say  that  you  feel  the 
skull  beneath;  but  with  Velasquez 
nothing  especially  arrests  the  eye  save 
the  fact  of  the  impression  as  a  whole — 
the  character  of  the  thing  as  the  light 
revealed  it;  and  he  makes  you  feel, 
above  all,  the  entrancing  mystery  of 
light. 

The  canvas  measures  thirty  by  twen- 
•  ty-five  and  a  half  inches,  and  the  bust 
is  life-size.  It  is  very  thinly  painted 
throughout  the  dark  surfaces,  but  is 
more  heavily  overlaid  in  the  lights. 
The  touch  is  choice,  discreet,  and  of 
restrained  power  and  dignity,  as  well 
as  of  nice  discrimination  in  the  pas- 
sages from  light  to  dark,  culminating 
in  the  high  light  upon  the  forehead. 

I  have  endeavored  to  suggest  by  a 
mixture  of  line  and  stipple,  taking  my 
cue  from  the  brush-work,  the  quality 
of  the  handling  in  the  flesh,  which  is 
differentiated  from  that  in  the  hair, 
and  these  again  from  the  treatment  of 
the  black  cloak  and  the  nuanced  depth 
of  the  warm  umbery  background.  The 
coloring  of  the  whole  is  golden,  neu- 
tral, and  subdued,  yet  rich  and  of  a 
fine  glow. 

We  are  indebted  to  the  Duchess  of 
Wellington,  who  cheerfully  accorded 
us  every  facility  for  photographing 
and  studying  the  work. 

The  "Menippus"  hangs  in  the  Salon 
de  Velasquez  of  the  Prado  Museum  in 
Madrid,  and  measures  five  feet  ten 
inches  high  by  about  three  feet  wide. 
It  is  life-size  and  painted  on  canvas. 


I02 


OLD  SPANISH  MASTERS 


The  figure  is  clad  in  a  black  cloak,  and 
the  painting  has  a  warm  brownish  and 
grayish  background.  It  is  in  the  third 
or  latest  style  of  the  artist. 

The  form  of  the  figure  beneath  the 
cloak  is  well  expressed.  The  boots 
are  of  a  soft,  deep-buff  color,  harmo- 
nizing well  with  the  general  scheme. 
The  standing  of  the  brown  water-jar 
on  the  board,  which  is  poised  on  two 
round  stones,  is  said  to  have  been  a 
favorite  feat  of  the  philosopher — a 
vainglorious  formula  of  his  sobriety 
and  abstinence.  He  hved  on  beans,  de- 
spite the  fact  that  Pythagoras  pro- 
scribed them. 

At  his  feet  lie  an  open  folio  on  the 
left  and  a  roll  of  parchment  with  an 
octavo  volume  on  the  right.  He  has 
the  cheery,  optimistic  air  of  the  true 
philosopher,  though  there  is  mingled 
somewhat  of  the  Cynic  in  his  expres- 
sion. Note  here  what  Lucian,  the 
Greek  poet  and  satirist,  gives  in  his 
picture  of  Menippus,  and  how  Velas- 
quez takes  the  license  of  a  poet  in  de- 
parting from  him.  The  parchment  and 
books  at  the  feet  may  have  been  in- 
tended by  Velasquez  to  symbolize  the 
disregard  and  contempt  in  which  he 
held  the  would-be  philosophers  of  his 
time. 

R.  A.  M.  Stevenson,  in  his  book  on 
Velasquez,  says  of  "The  Spinners" : 
"What  a  rounded  vision  swims  in  up- 
on your  eye  and  occupies  all  the  ner- 
vous force  of  the  brain,  all  the  effort  of 
sight  upon  a  single  complete  visual  im- 
pression !  One  may  look  long  before 
it  crosses  one's  mind  to  think  of  any 
color  scheme,  of  tints  arbitrarily  con- 
trasted or  harmonized,  of  masses  bal- 
anced, of  lines  opposed  or  cunningly 
interwoven,  of  any  of  the  tricks  of  the 
'metier'  however  high  and  masterlike. 
The  art  of  this  thing,  for  it  is  full  of 
art,  is  done  for  the  first  time,  and  so 


neither  formal  nor  traditional.  The 
admiration  this  picture  raises  is  akin 
to  the  excitement  of  natural  beauty; 
thought  is  suspended  by  something 
alike  yet  different  from  the  enchant- 
ment of  reality."  And  farther  on  he 
says:  "Now  the  ensemble  of  'The 
Spinners'  has  been  perceived  in  some 
high  mood  of  impressionability,  and 
has  been  imaginatively  kept  in  view 
during  the  course  of  after-study.  The 
realism  of  this  picture  is  a  revelation 
of  the  way  the  race  has  felt  a  scene  of 
the  kind  during  thousands  of  years. 
The  unconscious  habit  of  the  eye  in 
estimating  the  relative  importance  of 
colors,  forms,  definitions,  masses, 
sparkles,  is  revealed  to  us  by  the  un- 
equaled  sensitiveness  of  this  man's  eye- 
sight." And  again  in  comparing  that 
marvel  of  light,  "Las  Meninas,"  with 
"The  Spinners"  he  continues :  "In  the 
busier,  richer,  and  more  accentuated 
canvas  of  'The  Spinners,'  the  shad- 
owed left  acts  as  a  foil  to  the  right, 
and  in  its  treatment  we  feel  the  master 
even  more,  perhaps,  than  in  the  lively 
right  half  which  contains  the  heroic 
figure  of  the  spinning  girl.  It  is  be- 
cause this  left  half  is  complete  and 
dignified  yet  not  obtrusive  that  we  ad- 
mire the  art  with  which  it  has  been 
organized.  True,  it  contains  about  as 
strong  local  color  as  Velasquez  ever 
painted,  but  the  tints  sleep  in  a  rich 
penumbra,  which  serves  to  set  off  the 
highly  illuminated  figure  on  the  right. 
In  this  comparatively  tranquil  side  of 
the  picture,  the  spindle,  the  stool,  the 
floor  and  the  objects  on  it,  as  well  as 
the  draped  and  shadowed  figures, 
seem  to  quiver  in  a  warm  haze,  sil- 
vered with  cool  glints  of  light.  Here 
Velasquez  has  reached  the  highest 
point  of  telling  suggestion,  of  choice 
touch,  of  nuanced  softness,  of  com- 
parative definition,  and  of  courageous 


VELASQUEZ 


103 


slashing  force  in  the  right  place.  But 
these  two  marvels  do  not  quarrel; 
this  rich  circumambience  of  populous 
shadow  and  this  dazzling  creature 
emerging  from  shadowiness  with  the 
gesture  of  a  goddess,  set  each  other 
off  and  enhance  each  other's  fascina- 
tions. Is  not  the  magic  of  her  exqui- 
sitely-turned head,  and  the  magnifi- 
cence of  her  sweeping  gesture  due,  in 
part  at  least,  to  the  natural  mystery 
with  which  the  stray  curls,  the  shining 
arm,  the  modeled  neck  and  body  slide 
into  the  marvelous  shadow  in  the  angle 
of  the  room  ?  The  cool  light,  slightly 
greened  now,  which  pervades  'The 
Spinners,'  comes  to  its  culmination  on 


this  figure,  and  one  should  not  over- 
look the  painter's  nice  discrimination 
between  the  force  of  definitions  in  the 
passages  from  light  to  dark  of  the 
girl's  chemise." 

This  picture  represents  the  factory 
of  tapestries  of  Santa  Isabel,  of  Ma- 
drid. In  the  alcove  is  seen  a  tapestry 
suspended,  athwart  which  a  ray  of 
sunlight  glances,  and  which  is  being 
inspected  by  visitors. 

The  canvas  measures  seven  feet  two 
inches  high  by  nine  feet  five  and  one- 
half  inches  wide,  and  is  the  last  great 
work  done  by  the  artist  It  is  seen  in 
the  Velasquez  room  of  the  Prado  Mu- 
seum at  Madrid.  T.  C. 


THE  SEVENTEENTH-CENTURY 
SCHOOL  OF  VALENCIA 


CHAPTER  VI 

THE  SEVENTEENTH-CENTURY  SCHOOL  OF  VALENCIA 

I 

IN  the  Valencian  school  the  most  important  figure  of  the  seven- 
teenth century  was  Jose  de  Ribera.  His  Hfe  belonged  to  Naples, 
but  his  pictures  were  eagerly  welcomed  by  his  countrymen,  Philip 
IV  being  one  of  his  most  constant  patrons,  and  their  influence  was 
felt  by  all  the  painters  of  the  period.  But  before  discussing  his  career 
we  may  note  two  local  artists  of  Valencia,  Jacinto  Geronimo  de  Es- 
pinosa  and  Esteban  March.  The  former,  bom  at  Cocentagna,  in 
1600,  became  the  pupil  of  his  father,  Rodriguez,  afterward  studying, 
it  is  supposed,  with  the  Valencian  painter,  Francisco  Ribalta,  and 
paying  a  visit  to  Italy.  In  his  twenty-third  year  he  was  in  Valencia 
painting  a  picture  for  the  convent  of  Santa  Tecla,  and  appears  to 
have  continued  to  reside  there,  for  in  1638  he  painted  eight  large 
subjects  for  the  cloister  of  the  convent  of  the  Carmelites.  His  piety, 
no  less  than  his  industry  and  prolific  fancy,  soon  established  his  pop- 
ularity in  a  community  so  devout  as  that  of  Valencia.  When  in 
1647  ^^c  plague  attacked  that  city,  he  placed  himself  and  his  family 
under  the  protection  of  San  Luis  Beltran,  whose  intercession  not 
only  preserved  them  all  from  contagion,  but  cured  Espinosa  himself 
of  an  affection  of  water  on  the  brain.  The  artist,  therefore,  in  return 
for  these  benefits,  executed  a  series  of  pictures  to  adorn  the  chaf)el 
of  San  Luis  in  the  convent  of  San  Domingo.  His  works  abounded 
throughout  the  province  of  Valencia,  and  examples  may  be  seen 
to-day  in  the  galleries  of  Valencia  and  Madrid.    He  died  in  1680. 

107 


I08  OLD    SPANISH    MASTERS 

We  have  already  noticed  Pedro  Orrente  in  discussing  the  paint- 
ers of  the  Castile  school,  for  definite  knowledge  exists  of  his  having 
worked  much  in  Toledo.  But  by  birth  he  belonged  to  the  Valencian 
school  and  probably  resided  in  Valencia  for  some  time,  since  Esteban 
March  of  that  city  was  his  pupil.  The  latter's  work,  like  his  mas- 
ter's, bears  some  resemblance  to  the  landscape  and  animal-genre 
pictures  of  the  Venetian,  Jacopo  Bassano.  But  March  was  of  a  vio- 
lent and  eccentric  temperament,  delighting  in  battle  subjects,  which 
he  executed  in  a  dashing  style  of  brushwork.  It  is  said  that  before 
painting  he  would  work  himself  into  a  suitable  condition  of  excite- 
ment by  practising  with  the  various  weapons  that  hung  around  his 
studio,  to  the  no  little  discomfiture  of  his  assistants.  He  possessed 
a  taste  for  what  was  coarse,  as  certain  forcible  but  hideous  heads  in 
the  Prado  attest.  In  his  private  life  he  was  correspondingly  violent 
and  disorderly,  working  only  when  the  mood  was  on  him,  absenting 
himself  from  home  in  the  intervals,  and  on  his  return  breaking  out 
into  fits  of  rage  against  his  wife  and  pupils.  Palomino,  as  a  charac- 
teristic sample  of  his  doings,  relates  that  on  one  occasion,  long  after 
midnight,  he  brought  home  a  few  fish  which  he  insisted  on  having 
fried.  His  wife  protested  that  there  was  no  oil  in  the  house,  where- 
upon he  ordered  one  of  his  pupils  to  go  out  and  buy  some.  It  was 
urged  that  the  shops  were  closed.  "Then  take  linseed  oil,"  cried 
March,  "for,  per  Dios,  I  will  have  those  fish  fried  at  once."  But  the 
mess  when  tasted  acted  as  a  violent  emetic ;  "for,  indeed,"  remarks 
Palomino,  "linseed  oil,  at  all  times  of  a  villainous  flavor,  when  hot  is 
the  very  devil."  In  his  rage  the  master  flung  fish  and  frying-pan 
out  of  the  window,  whereupon  Conchillos,  the  pupil,  flung  chafing- 
dish  and  charcoal  after  them.  The  jest  caught  the  artist's  humor 
and  restored  him  to  good  temper.  Such  an  anecdote,  though  of  little 
interest  in  itself,  serves  to  show  that  the  personality  of  March  was 
in  marked  contrast  to  the  customary  piety  of  the  Valencian  school. 


n 

RIBERA  (lO  SPAGNOLETTO) 

Ribera's  long  sojourn  in  Naples  led  some  writers  of  that  city  to 
claim  him  as  an  Italian.  The  fact  that  he  often  supplemented  his 
signature  with  "Spaniard  of  Jativa"  was  attributed  to  a  vainglori- 
ous desire  to  identify  himself  by  birth,  at  least,  with  the  ruling  na- 
tion. It  may  have  been ;  but  the  title  was  correct,  as  has  been  proved 
by  the  discovery  of  his  baptismal  registration,  which  states  that  he 
was  bom  at  Jativa,  in  Valencia,  January  12,  1588;  and  that  his  pa- 
rents were  Luis  Ribera  and  Margarita  Gil. 

In  due  course  he  was  sent  to  the  University  of  Valencia  to  pre- 
pare for  one  of  the  learned  professions ;  but,  following  his  own  bent, 
abondoned  these  studies  to  attend  the  school  of  Francisco  Ribalta. 
He  made  rapid  progress,  and  at  an  early  age  contrived  to  reach 
Rome.  Here  he  subsisted  in  a  destitute  condition,  endeavoring  to 
improve  himself  in  art  by  copying  the  frescos  on  the  outsides  of  the 
palaces,  until  his  industry  and  poverty  attracted  the  attention  of  a 
cardinal.  This  dignitary  carried  him  off  to  his  own  palace,  and  pro- 
vided him  with  clothes,  food,  and  lodging.  But  the  independent 
spirit  of  Ribera  preferred  freedom  even  with  indigence  to  constraint 
however  comfortable.  He  escaped  into  the  streets  and  declined  with 
thanks  the  cardinal's  renewed  offers  of  assistance.  It  was  not  long 
before  the  little  Spaniard  (Lo  Spagnoletto)  became  a  marked  figure 
in  Rome,  both  for  his  sturdy  temper  and  for  his  skill  in  copying  the 
works  of  Raphael  and  the  Carracci  and  later  in  imitating  the  style 
of  Caravaggio.  But  Rome  being  overstocked  with  painters,  he 
moved  to  Naples. 

109 


no  OLD  SPANISH  MASTERS 

In  this  city  fortune  smiled  upon  him.  A  rich  picture-dealer  who 
had  given  him  employment  was  so  satisfied  of  his  genius  that  he 
offered  him  the  hand  of  his  daughter  and  a  handsome  dowry.  Ri- 
bera  at  first  resented  the  proposal ;  but,  finding  it  was  made  in  good 
faith,  accepted  it,  thereby  stepping  at  once  into  a  position  of  assured 
comfort  with  promise  of  future  opulence.  He  was  now  stimulated 
to  increased  exertion  and  produced  a  "Flaying  of  St.  Bartholomew," 
a  composition  of  life-sized  figures  in  which  the  horror  of  the  subject 
was  rendered  with  frightful  realism.  The  picture,  being  exposed  in 
the  public  street,  possibly  in  front  of  the  dealer's  store,  attracted 
naturally  a  crowd  of  sight-seers.  The  excitement  was  visible  from 
the  windows  of  the  vice-regal  palace,  at  one  of  which  happened  to 
be  standing  the  viceroy  himself,  the  eccentric  Don  Pedro  Giron, 
Duke  of  Ossuna.  He  inquired  the  cause,  sent  for  the  painter  and 
the  picture,  bought  the  latter,  and  appointed  the  former  his  court 
painter. 

Ribera,  now  having  the  viceroy's  ear,  became  a  person  of  import- 
ance. Such  prosperity  no  doubt  aroused  the  jealousy  of  the  Nea- 
politan painters,  and  may  have  colored  the  story  which  obtained 
currency  in  Naples  that  Ribera,  realizing  his  power,  formed  with 
two  other  painters,  Belisario  Corenzio,  a  Greek,  and  Giambattista 
Caracciolo,  a  Neapolitan,  both  as  unscrupulous  as  himself,  a  cabal 
to  crush  competition  and  secure  for  themselves  the  pick  of  the 
work  in  Naples.  Their  conspiracy  to  obtain  the  commission  for 
decorating  the  chapel  of  St.  Januarius  in  the  cathedral  of  Naples, 
is  one  of  the  most  curious  and  disgraceful  pages  in  the  history  of  art. 
Cavaliere  d'Arpino,  to  whom  the  work  was  first  given,  they  assailed 
with  various  persecutions  that  finally  drove  him  to  take  shelter  with 
the  Benedictines  of  Monte  Cassino.  Guido  being  chosen  next,  his 
servant  was  beaten  by  hired  bravos  and  ordered  to  tell  his  master 
that  a  like  fate  would  befall  him,  if  he  attempted  the  work— a  hint 
which  drove  him  also  from  the  city.  A  pupil  of  Guido  having  ac- 
cepted the  commission,  his  two  servants  were  inveigled  on  board  a 
galley  in  the  bay  and  heard  of  no  more.  At  last  the  commissioners 
assigned  the  work  to  the  conspirators,  but  for  some  reason  changed 


THE  SEVENTEENTH-CENTURY  SCHOOL  OF  VALENCIA        1 1 1 

their  minds  and  transferred  it  to  Domenichino,  tempting  him  by  an 
offer  of  large  payment  and  the  empty  promise  of  vice-regal  protec- 
tion. No  sooner  had  the  luckless  Domenichino  undertaken  the  work 
than  anonymous  threatening  letters  poured  in  upon  him ;  his  charac- 
ter was  slandered ;  his  works  abused ;  and  the  plasterers  were  brilied 
to  mix  ashes  with  the  mortar  on  which  his  frescos  were  to  be  painted. 
Harassed  by  these  persecutions  Domenichino  escaped  to  Rome,  but 
in  an  evil  hour  was  persuaded  to  return  to  Naples,  where  he  shortly 
afterward  died  of  vexation,  not  without  suspicion  of  poison.  But, 
though  the  conspirators  had  prevented  others  from  having  the  work, 
they  did  not  secure  it  for  themselves.  The  Neapolitan  died  a  few 
months  after  Domenichino,  the  Greek  two  years  later,  and  to  Lo 
Spagnoletto  was  assigned  but  one  item  of  the  whole  scheme  of  deco- 
ration. This  was  an  altarpiece,  in  which  he  represented  St.  Janu- 
arius  among  his  baffled  tormentors,  issuing  unscathed  from  the 
furnace. 

Notwithstanding  that  Cean  Bermudez  in  his  "Diccionario  his- 
torico"  makes  no  mention  of  these  circumstances,  their  veracity  re- 
mained unquestioned  until  the  publication  in  1866  of  the  "Discursos 
practicables  del  nobilissimo  arte  de  la  pintura"  by  Jusepa  Martinez. 
This  writer,  a  painter  of  Zaragosa,  descril)es  his  visit  to  Naples  in 
1625  and  his  meeting  with  Ribera.  The  latter  received  him  with 
courtesy  and  introduced  him  to  a  Neapolitan  painter,  who,  assuming 
the  unpopularity  of  Ribera,  would  have  been  one  of  his  opponents. 
The  suggestion  is,  therefore,  that  Martinez  detected  no  existence  of 
any  friction  between  Ribera  and  his  Neapolitan  contemporaries. 
Moreover,  the  conversation  which  he  records  that  he  held  with 
Ribera  seems  also  to  dispose  of  the  stories  of  the  latter's  arrogance 
and  exclusive  predilection  for  naturalistic  motives.  Martinez  asked 
him  if  he  did  not  regret  being  away  from  Rome;  and  he  replied  that 
he  did,  especially  that  he  missed  the  constant  inspiration  of  the  im- 
mortal Raphael.  "Those  words,"  says  Martinez,  "showed  me  how 
little  to  the  point  was  that  report,  according  to  which  this  great 
painter  boasted  that  none  of  the  old  or  new  masters  had  equaled  his 
own  unsurpassable  works." 


112  OLD    SPANISH    MASTERS 

In  face  of  these  impressions  and  fragments  of  conversation  re- 
corded by  Martinez  and  of  the  silence  of  Cean  Bermudez  concerning 
the  Neapolitan  story,  Carl  Justi  considers  it  disposed  of.  "This 
artist,"  he  says,  "who  never  condescended  to  pander  to  the  gross 
sensuality  of  the  age,  has  hitherto  been  known  to  posterity  only 
through  the  hostile  and  utterly  untrustworthy  accounts  of  the  Nea- 
poHtans." 

Whatever  quarrels  he  may  have  had  with  other  artists,  Ribera 
retained  the  favor  of  each  succeeding  viceroy,  was  enrolled  in  the 
Roman  Academy  of  St.  Luke's,  and  presented  with  a  cross  of  the 
order  of  Christ  by  Pope  Innocent  X.  According  to  Bermudez,  he 
died  in  1656,  full  of  riches,  honor,  and  fame.  Cean  Bermudez  dwells 
on  the  artist's  popularity  and  opulence :  how  he  occupied  sumptuous 
apartments  in  the  vice-regal  palace  and  maintained  a  retinue  of 
servants  in  livery ;  painted  for  six  hours  a  day  and  gave  the  rest  to 
pleasure,  and  how  his  wife  took  the  air  in  her  coach  with  a  waiting 
gentleman  to  attend  her. 

The  Neapolitans,  however,  have  given  his  life  another  end. 
They  assert  that  Don  Juan  of  Austria,  during  his  visit  to  Naples 
in  1648,  enjoyed  Ribera's  hospitality,  won  his  daughter's  heart, 
carried  her  off  to  Sicily,  and,  tiring  of  his  passion,  placed  her  in  a 
convent  in  Palermo.  Stung  with  shame,  the  painter  is  said  to  have 
sunk  into  a  melancholy,  abandoned  his  family,  and  disappeared  from 
Naples.    Which  of  these  accounts  is  the  truer,  remains  undecided. 

The  fame  enjoyed  by  Ribera  at  the  court  of  Naples  caused  a  con- 
siderable number  of  his  pictures  to  be  sent  to  Spain  by  viceroys 
eager  to  conciliate  the  good  will  of  the  king  and  church.  Thus  alike 
in  Valencia,  Madrid,  and  Seville,  his  work  became  familiar  to  stu- 
dents and  set  the  direction  and  pace  for  the  great  development  of  the 
native  Spanish  school.  Velasquez,  Murillo,  and  Zurbaran  were  all 
established  in  their  own  predilection  for  naturalism  by  his  example. 
The  last  two,  moreover,  could  find  in  his  work  a  solution  of  the  prob- 
lem of  uniting  the  motive  of  naturalism  with  the  spirit  of  Catholi- 
cism. For  it  is  in  Ribera  that  first  appeared  the  union  of  these  two 
elements,  which  gave  a  new  impetus  to  painting  in  the  seventeenth 
century,  and  a  new  possibility  of  originality  and  greatness. 


:*  '   f  '  •  >  i'^  •  1  • .  .  .  • 


THE  AS^UMi'llO.N   t>i-    MAKV    MAt.WAi.KNK.     iiV    KIHKKA. 


;  :•  i  :•.    {  •   .       .•;■•/• 

THE  SEVENTEENTH-CENTURY  SCHOOL  OF.VAtENCTA     ••H^ 

^  • .  *  >  \  •      . 

It  is  not  unusual  to  lay  overmuch  stress  on  nis  debt  (o  CaraVztg- 
gio  and  to  associate  Ribera  himself  too  narrowly  with  subjects  of  a 
violent  character.  In  the  terrible  realism  of  his  martyrdoms  he 
proved  himself  more  akin  to  the  Spanish  than  the  Italian  instinct; 
while  as  a  painter  he  ranks  far  superior  to  Caravaggio.  Among  his 
masterpieces  in  Spain  are  a  few  in  which  he  rivals  Titian  in  beauty 
and  brilliancy  of  color.  His  "Immaculata,"  in  the  Church  of  the 
Agustinas  Recoletas  at  Salamanca,  is  considered  to  excel  in  color 
and  splendor  of  light  and  nobility  of  form  and  invention  all  that 
Murillo,  Guido  Reni,  and  Rubens  have  attained  in  their  representa- 
tion of  this  subject.  Nor  was  he  unequal  to  the  rendering  of  types 
of  gracious  melancholy,  as  may  be  seen  in  his  "Assumption  of  the 
Magdalene,"  in  his  "St.  Agnes"  of  Dresden  Gallery,  and  the  "Rest 
During  the  Flight  into  Egypt"  at  Cordoba. 

Ribera,  as  Justi  says,  unapproached  by  any  of  his  countrymen  in 
knowledge  and  skill  of  drawing  and  modeling,  represents  the  seri- 
ousness and  depths  of  Spanish  piety,  sometimes  degenerating  into 
morbidity  and  cruelty.  He  also,  though  more  rarely,  shows  a  po- 
etic charm  that  glows  like  a  richly  colored  flower  among  the  rocks. 


NOTES  BY  THE  ENGRAVER 

RIBERA  is  one  of  the  greatest  a  destitute  condition,  subsisting  on 
names  in  the  history  of  art,  and  crusts  and  clad  in  rags,  yet  industri- 
in  the  Spanish  school  he  stands  un-  ously  copying  the  frescos  on  the  fa- 
rivaled  for  power  and  brilliancy  of  cades  of  the  palaces,  or  the  shrines  at 
technique,  richness  of  coloring,  un-  the  comers  of  the  streets.  He  prose- 
•orpasted  strength  of  drawing,  and  cuted  his  studies  in  the  chambers  of 
k>ftiness  of  conception.  He  was  bom  the  palaces,  and  all  the  great  painters 
at  Jativa,  in  the  delightful  region  of  from  Raphael  to  Caravaggio  came 
Valencia  in  southern  Spain,  and  is  under  his  pencil.  From  the  sale  of 
supposed  to  have  had  some  instruction  his  works  in  this  field  he  scraped  to- 
in  art  from  Ribalta.  Though  very  gether  sufficient  money  to  visit  the 
poor,  he  early  made  his  way  to  Italy,  north  of  Italy,  studying  the  works  of 
in  the  fervor  of  his  desire  to  prosecute  Cbrreggio  at  Parma  and  Modena,  and 
hu  study  of  art.    In  Rome  he  was  in  apparently  digesting  the  whole  field  of 


OLD    SPANISH    MASTERS 


Italian  art'.  Later  in  'life,  when  at  the 
zenith  of  his  fame  and  prosperity,  re- 
ferring to  the  great  masters  from 
whom  he  had  learned  so  much,  he 
said :  "These  are  works  which  should 
be  often  studied  and  pondered  over. 
No  doubt  people  now  paint  from  an- 
other standpoint  and  another  practice. 
Nevertheless,  if  we  do  not  build  on 
this  foundation  of  study,  we  may  eas- 
ily come  to  a  bad  end,  especially  in  the 
historical  subjects.  These  are  the 
polar-star  of  perfection;  and  herein 
we  are  guided  by  the  histories  painted 
by  the  immortal  Raphael  in  the  holy 
palace;  whoever  studies  these  works 
will  make  himself  a  true  and  finished 
historical  painter."  Thus  he  devel- 
oped his  art  under  an  Italian  sky  and 
the  changing  influences  of  a  wander- 
ing Bohemian  life.  Returning  to 
Rome,  and  feeling  that  the  city  was 
overstocked  with  artists,  he  determined 
to  go  to  Naples.  He  was  obliged  to 
leave  his  cloak  in  pawn  at  his  inn,  in 
order  to  clear  his  score,  or  to  raise 
enough  money  for  the  journey.  At 
Naples  fortune  was  auspicious,  and 
threw  him  in  the  way  of  a  rich  picture- 
dealer,  who  gave  him  some  employment, 
and  their  relations  became  so  intimate 
that  he  finally  married  his  employer's 
daughter,  and  at  once  stepped  out  of 
solitary  indigence  into  happiness  and  a 
prospect  of  future  opulence.  He  soon 
afterward  attracted  the  attention  of 
the  Duke  of  Ossuna,  viceroy  of  Na- 
ples, who  appointed  him  his  court 
painter,  with  a  goodly  salary.  It  was 
in  this  capacity  that,  ten  years  later, 
he  met  Velasquez,  who  visited  Naples 
and  was  entertained  in  princely  fash- 


ion by  "the  little  Spaniard"  (Lo  Spag- 
noletto),  as  Ribera  was  called  by  the 
Neapolitans. 

Carl  Justi  gives  us  the  account,  and 
has,  happily,  blown  to  the  winds  the 
disgraceful  stories  that  have  hitherto 
prejudiced  his  name,  as :  that  he  was 
a  crude  naturalist,  who  despised  his 
great  precursors ;  was  a  conceited,  am- 
bitious and  envious  intriguer,  plotting 
at  the  head  of  a  violent  cabal  against 
his  colleagues.  We  now  know  him  as 
a  man  of  much  civility,  temperate,  and 
wise  in  his  judgments,  deep  and  ten- 
der in  feeling,  courteous,  and  a  lover 
of  all  that  is  great  and  good. 

The  "Assumption  of  Mary  Magda- 
lene," a  large  canvas,  was  painted  in 
1626,  when  the  artist  was  thirty-eight 
years  old.  It  is  a  solemn  and  magnifi- 
cent presentation  of  the  legend  which 
says :  "Every  day,  during  the  last 
years  of  her  penance  in  the  wilder- 
ness, the  angels  came  down  from 
heaven  and  carried  her  up  in  their 
arms  into  regions  where  she  was  rav- 
ished by  the  sounds  of  unearthly  har- 
mony and  beheld  the  glory  and  joy 
prepared  for  the  sinner  that  repent- 
eth."  She  is  clad  in  a  deep-red  robe, 
the  symbolic  color  of  love,  and  in  the 
angels'  hands  are  her  attributes — the 
skull,  the  scourge,  and  the  vase  of 
anointment.  The  sky  is  blue,  streaked 
with  gray  and  golden  clouds — a  splen- 
did harmony  of  color  as  fine  as  any 
Titian.  The  work  hangs  in  the  Aca- 
demia  de  Bellas  Artes,  where  I  was 
accorded  every  facility  for  engraving 
the  picture  before  the  original,  which 
the  light  fortunately  enabled  me  to  do. 

T.  C. 


THE  SEVENTEENTH-CENTURY 
SCHOOL  OF  ANDALUSIA 


CHAPTER  VII 

THE  SEVENTEENTH-CENTURY  SCHOOL  OF  ANDALUSIA 


TO  the  school  of  Andalusia,  during  the  seventeenth-century 
renaissance  of  Spanish  painting,  belongs  the  highest  place.  It 
had  furnished  to  the  school  of  Castile  the  great  person  of  Ve- 
lasquez, and  still  retained  in  its  own  school  a  preponderance  of  the 
chief  names  of  the  period. 

Juan  del  Castillo  ( 1584- 1640),  who  lived  and  worked  in  Seville, 
with  occasional  visits  to  Granada,  has  left  some  pictures,  to  be  seen 
in  the  museums  of  Madrid  and  Seville,  of  which  the  quality  is  un- 
even, for  the  drawing  is  at  times  defective.  His  title  to  a  place  in 
the  history  of  the  school  rests  rather  on  his  having  been  the  teacher 
of  Cano  and  Murillo.  Yet  too  much  stress  is  not  to  be  laid  on  this 
fact,  for  these  men,  like  the  rest  of  the  younger  generation,  grew  to 
their  own  positions  by  hastening  to  get  beyond  the  teachings  of  their 
masters.  A  stronger  influence  was  at  work— the  example  of  Ri- 
bera's  paintings.  These  had  found  their  way  to  Seville  in  consid- 
erable numbers  and  taught  the  lesson  of  studying  from  nature. 
Naturalism  became  the  characteristic  motive  of  the  school  of  Anda- 
lusia. 

In  face  of  it  such  painters  as  Francisco  Pacheco  (1579- 1654) 
the  father-in-law  and  teacher  of  Velasquez,  a  writer  also  and  an 
authority  upon  art;  and  as  Francisco  Herrera  (1576- 1656),  Velas- 
quez's first  teacher,  found  their  influence  supplanted.  Not,  however, 
until  they  had  played  an  important  part.    Both  were  learned  paint- 

"7 


Il8  OLD   SPANISH    MASTERS 

ers,  skilled  in  the  principles  of  their  art,  excellent  draftsmen  and 
anatomists,  and  with  knowledge  of  color.  Pacheco,  too,  by  his 
scholarship  and  taste,  was  a  potent  factor  in  lifting  to  a  high  level 
the  culture  of  Seville,  and  must  have  had  a  decisive  influence  upon 
the  mind  and  character  of  Velasquez.  The  latter  also  derived  from 
Herrera,  what  he  could  have  obtained  from  no  one  else  in  Spain,  an 
appreciation  of  the  value  of  a  bold  and  vigorous  brush  attack. 

For  in  this  respect  Herrera,  the  Elder,  as  he  was  called  to  dis- 
tinguish him  from  his  son,  was  the  most  remarkable  man  of  his  time. 
Though  he  had  learned  his  art  in  Andalusia,  with  no  other  examples 
than  the  minutely  finished  work  of  his  predecessors,  he  leapt  of  his 
own  independence  into  a  breadth  of  design,  a  forcible  suggestiveness 
of  method,  an  ease  and  vivacity  of  touch  and  a  flowing  freshness  of 
color  that  have  caused  him  to  be  compared  with  Rubens.  In  his 
private  life  he  was  equally  defiant  of  conventions.  His  violence  of 
temper  drove  his  wife  and  children  from  the  house  and  frequently 
emptied  his  studio  of  pupils.  His  occasional  practice  of  engraving 
is  supposed  to  have  tempted  him  to  coin  false  money.  At  any  rate 
the  charge  was  made  and  he  sought  refuge  in  the  Jesuits  College, 
where  he  painted  the  altarpiece  of  St.  Hermengild.  When  the  young 
king,  Philip  IV,  on  a  visit  to  Seville,  saw  the  picture,  and  was  told 
of  the  charge  against  the  painter,  he  sent  for  the  latter  and  granted 
him  a  free  pardon.  "What  need  of  silver  and  gold  has  a  man  gifted 
with  abilities  like  yours  ?  Go,  you  are  free,  and  take  care  that  you 
do  not  get  into  this  scrape  again."  Many  years  after  Herrera 
moved  to  Madrid,  to  find  his  pupil  Velasquez  in  high  favor  at  court. 

Another  of  Castillo's  pupils  was  Pedro  de  Moya,  born  in  Granada 
in  1610.  Perhaps  the  most  important  item  of  his  life  is  that  he  gave 
the  turning-point  to  Murillo's  career.  They  had  been  fellow-pupils 
in  Castillo's  studio,  and  when  the  master  moved  to  Madrid  Moya 
gave  up  painting  for  soldiering.  While  with  the  army  in  Flanders, 
however,  he  saw  some  of  the  works  of  Vandyke,  and  under  the  en- 
thusiasm of  their  inspiration,  obtained  release  from  military  service, 
passed  over  into  England,  and  enrolled  himself  as  one  of  the  artist's 
pupils.     When  Vandyke  died,  Moya  returned  to  Seville,  bringing 


THE  SEVENTEENTH-CENTURY  SCHOOL  OF  ANDALUSIA     1 19 

with  him  copies  of  some  of  the  master's  pictures.  The  sight  of  them 
aroused  the  ambition  of  Murillo,  who  as  soon  as  possible  set  forth 
upon  his  eventful  journey  to  Madrid.  Moya  continued  to  paint  in 
Seville  in  imitation  of  Vandyke.    He  died  in  1666. 


II 

FRANCISCO    DE    ZURBARAN 

The  study  of  life,  color,  and  chiaroscuro  with  which,  in  a  rebound 
from  the  mannerists'  tame  imitation  of  Raphael,  Juan  de  Roelas  had 
vitalized  Sevillian  painting,  are  the  qualities  conspicuous  in  his  pupil, 
Zurbaran.  The  latter  was  born  in  1 598  at  Fuente  de  Cantos,  a  small 
town  of  Estremadura,  among  the  hills  of  the  sierra  which  divides 
that  province  from  Andalusia.  He  very  early  received  some  instruc- 
tion from  an  unknown  painter,  possibly  a  pupil  of  Luis  Morales, 
whose  birthplace,  Frexenal,  is  in  the  neighborhood;  and  made  such 
progress  that  his  father  abandoned  the  idea  of  bringing  him  up  to 
his  own  occupation  of  a  husbandman  and  sent  him  to  the  school  of 
Roelas  in  Seville.  Here  by  his  talents  and  industry  he  speedily 
gained  considerable  reputation. 

Like  Velasquez,  he  was  resolved  that  everything  that  he  painted 
should  be  from  direct  study  of  the  model ;  and  the  effects  of  this  dili- 
gent and  faithful  observation  were  soon  apparent  in  the  remarkably 
realistic  character  of  his  works.  In  his  earlier,  and,  as  many  think, 
his  most  interesting,  ones,  the  realism  is  pushed  to  a  singular  ex- 
treme. It  is  as  if  he  were  persuaded  that  the  painter  had  no  concern 
with  anything  but  what  is  visible  to  the  eye!  and  must,  therefore, 
permit  himself  no  exercise  of  fancy,  much  less  of  imagination.  Even 
his  angels  are  but  boys  and  girls,  picked,  it  would  seem,  at  hazard 
off  the  streets,  pleasant  looking,  plain  or  ngly,  as  it  happened,  and 
set  upon  the  model's  stand  in  freshly  laundered  linen.  His  female 
saints  and  martyrs,  in  costumes  that  are  fantastic  adaptations  of  the 

120 


:=!.    i.UZAi;i.lU.      liV    tKA.\Ll5Cu    /LUi;A],A.\. 

l?t    THB   »J|ITHkAIIKV  (.CMJ.SCTIOM,   U>MIX>M. 


THE  SEVENTEENTH-CENTURY  SCHOOL  OF  ANDALUSIA      121 

prevailing  fashions,  with  the  strange  disfigurement  of  flat  and 
pointed  bodices,  appear  to  be  portraits  of  the  beauties  of  the  day, 
rouged  d  la  mode.  Yet  these  peculiarities,  while  they  detract  from 
the  religious  suggestion  of  the  pictures,  invest  them  with  the  interest 
that  belongs  to  what  is  sincerely  and  intimately  true. 

His  masterpiece  of  this  period  is  the  allegorical  picture  of  St, 
Thomas  Aquinas  now  in  the  Seville  Museum.  It  is  divided  into 
three  parts,  with  figures  somewhat  larger  than  life.  Overhead  in 
the  heavenly  radiance  appears  the  Trinity,  attended  by  the  Virgin, 
St.  Paul,  and  St.  Domenic.  Toward  these  the  figure  of  St.  Thomas 
Aquinas  is  ascending.  Lower  down,  enthroned  on  clouds,  are  the 
venerable  forms  of  the  four  doctors  of  the  church,  Ambrose,  Augus- 
tine, Jerome,  and  Gregory,  while  beneath  them,  kneeling  on  the 
ground,  are  the  Archbishop  Diego  de  Deza,  founder  of  the  College 
of  St.  Thomas,  and  the  Emperor  Charles  V,  attended  by  a  train  of 
ecclesiastics.  This  picture,  one  of  the  grandest  of  altarpieces,  was 
painted  when  Zurbaran  was  in  his  twenty-seventh  year.  It  was 
among  the  spoils  carried  off  by  Soult,  but  was  recovered  by  Welling- 
ton at  the  Battle  of  Waterloo  and  restored  to  Seville. 

Zurbaran  now  became  much  occupied  with  commissions  executed 
on  behalf  of  the  monastic  orders,  especially  the  Carthusians  and 
Jeronymites.  The  best  of  these  works  are  probably  the  eight  scenes 
in  the  sacristy  of  what  was  once  the  magnificent  monastery  of  the 
order  of  St.  Jeronimo  of  Guadalupe ;  while  others  scarcely  less  strik- 
ing are  the  pictures  of  brethren  of  the  Carthusian  order  in  Seville 
Museum.  For  these  monastic  subjects  Zurbaran  is  justly  famous. 
The  voluminous,  plain-colored  habits  presented  an  opi)ortunity  for 
grandeur  of  composition  and  a  breadth  of  chiaroscuro  of  which  he 
made  a  noble  use.  The  heads  are  realized  with  amazing  fidelity, 
each  one  having  the  appearance  of  a  portrait,  keenly  differentiated 
in  type  and  character  from  the  rest ;  and  in  those  pictures  that  record 
actual  scenes  of  the  cloistered  life,  the  spirit  of  the  environment  is 
reproduced  most  vividly.  What  was  an  insignificant  branch  of 
painting  Zurbaran  raised  to  a  high  pitch  of  artistic  dignity  and  hu- 
man interest. 


122  OLD    SPANISH    MASTERS 

Before  he  was  thirty-five  years  old  Zurbaran  had  been  appointed 
one  of  the  king's  painters;  for,  on  a  picture  dated  1633,  appears  his 
signature  with  the  addition  "Pintor  del  Rey."  But  there  is  no  record 
of  work  done  in  the  king's  service  until  seventeen  years  later,  when 
in  1650  he  was  summoned  to  court  by  Velasquez,  to  cooperate  with 
Carducho,  Caxes,  and  Velasquez  himself  in  decorating  the  royal 
villa.  For  this  he  received  a  commission  to  paint  ten  subjects,  repre- 
senting the  labors  of  Hercules,  during  the  execution  of  which  he 
seems  to  have  enjoyed  the  intimate  favor  of  the  king.  The  greater 
part  of  his  life  was  spent  in  and  around  Seville,  with  occasional 
visits  to  his  native  town,  and  periods  of  solitude  among  the  wilds  of 
Estremadura.  For  he  seems  to  have  had  in  himself  much  of  the 
temper  of  a  recluse,  and  an  inclination  for  the  quiet  of  the  cloister. 

The  important  point  in  connection  with  Zurbaran's  work  is 
that  it  showed  no  leaning  whatever  toward  the  Italian.  In  him,  as 
in  Velasquez  and  Murillo — all  of  them,  it  is  significant,  being  of  the 
school  of  Andalusia— an  art  displayed  itself  that  was  Spanish  in  ori- 
gin and  character.  It  was  both  a  product  and  expression  of  native 
temperament  and  conditions.  In  the  case  of  all  three  it  was  based 
upon  naturalism,  exhibiting  a  preoccupation  with  the  visible  appear- 
ances of  men  and  things.  But,  while  Velasquez  left  the  associations 
of  his  youth  and  became  identified  with  the  court  and  with  the  school 
of  Castile,  Zurbaran  and  Murillo  worked  among  their  own  people, 
in  the  service  of  the  church  and  religious  orders.  The  naturalism  of 
both  the  latter,  therefore,  was  strongly  tinctured  with  the  local 
ardor  for  religion;  Murillo's  exhibiting  rather  the  ecstatic  phenom- 
ena, Zurbaran's  being  a  keen  portraiture  of  the  votaries  of  religion. 
With  these  differences  each  reflected  in  his  art  the  twin  elements  of 
Andalusian  character— a  fervor  of  religion  and  a  no  less  fervent 
interest  in  life. 


NOTES  BY  THE  ENGRAVER 

FRANCISCO    DE    ZURBARAN,      porary  with  Velasquez,  by  whom  he 
born  at  Fuente  de  Cantos,  Estre-     was  summoned  to  the  court  at  Madrid 
madura,  Spain,  in  1598,  was  contem-     in  1650,  where  he  thereafter  labored, 


•  ••    • 


■  *  * 


ST.  CATIIAKIN'K  IN   PRAVKR.     BY  ZURBARAN. 

tH«  COUJUmflM   o»  TM«  IXrAXTJt. 


THE  SEVENTEENTH-CENTURY  SCHOOL  OF  ANDALUSIA      1 23 


and  died  in  l66a.  He  painted  mostly 
religious  subjects,  among  which  were 
many  female  saints,  the  originals  sup- 
posed to  be  the  reigning  beauties  of 
the  time.  We  are  indebted  to  Claude 
Phillips,  Esq.,  keeper  of  the  Wallace 
collection  at  London,  for  having 
pointed  out  the  present  beautiful  ex- 
ample of  the  painter's  work,  and  to  its 
owner,  the  Right  Honorable  A.  H. 
Smith-Barry  of  London,  for  the  priv- 
ilege of  engraving  it. 

St  Elizabeth  of  Hungary  is  here 
shown  in  her  character  of  patron  of 
the  poor  and  distressed.  In  her  out- 
stretchc<l  hand  she  holds  a  coin,  while 
beneath  is  a  group  of  poor  folk  sup- 
plicating relief.  The  figure  is  life- 
size  ;  the  canvas  measures  thirty-eight 
inches  wide  by  forty-five  inches  high. 
It  is  a  fine,  soft,  warm  glow  of  color. 
The  background  curtain,  which  drops 
over  a  dark  landscape  heavy  with 
ck>uds,  is  a  rich,  soft,  deep  shade  of 
maroon,  whose  high  lights  are  yellow, 
of  a  salmon  flush,  harmonious  and 
beautiful.  Against  this  tone  the  figure 
is  relieved  with  softness  and  charm. 
It  is  clad  in  a  sumptuous  dress,  the 
waist  of  which  is  a  lovely,  soft,  warm 
shade  of  blue,  keyed  almost  to  the 
verge  of  green,  exquisite  in  its  tender 
melting  quality,  and  harmonizing  de- 
lightfully with  the  rich  gold  embroi- 
deries, and  the  creamy  lace  about  the 
bosom,  that  floats  into  the  warm,  rich 
tones  of  the  luminous  and  even  flesh. 
Were  it  not  for  the  blue,  the  picture 
might  be  too  warm,  but  it  is  this  de- 
lightful note  of  color  that  g^ves  to  the 
whole  such  a  charm.  The  flounces  of 
the  sleeves,  which  form  so  important 
a  feature  in  the  costtune,  are  white, 
but  grayed  to  a  tone  k>wer  than  the 
mass  of  the  light  on  the  flesh,  with 
touches  of  black  velvet  between  the 
flounces.    Though  this  is  stylish  and 


very  effective,  it  is  not  turbulent,  and 
owing  to  its  discreet  management  in 
its  subordination  to  the  head,  it  does 
not  clash  in  the  least  with  the  relief 
and  expression  of  that  part;  for  the 
head  receives  the  highest  light,  and 
framed  as  it  is  between  its  wealth  of 
dark  tresses— which,  next  to  the 
touches  of  dark  velvet,  are  the  strong- 
est notes  of  color  in  the  picture— the 
eye  naturally  goes  to  the  face.  The 
rich  dark  hair  is  of  a  frizzy  texture, 
which,  on  close  inspection,  reveals  an 
extraordinary  number  of  little  ringlets 
that  were  impossible  to  engrave.  I 
could  only  show  its  soft  character  and 
volume,  as  one  would  see  it  without 
too  closely  scrutinizing. 

There  is  great  breadth  of  treatment 
as  well  as  delicacy  of  finish  to  this 
work,  and  the  drawing  is  charming. 
Zurbaran  has  been  styled  "the  Spanish 
Caravaggio"  from  his  resemblance  to 
the  Italian  in  his  broad  handling,  strong 
contrasts  of  light  and  shade,  and  the 
easy,  natural  g^ce  of  the  attitudes  of 
his  figures. 

Zurbaran  was  an  admirable  painter 
of  monks  and  female  saints,  and  of 
the  latter  class  the  "St.  Catharine  in 
Prayer", is  without  doubt  one  of  the 
kiveliest  and  most  touching  examples. 
I  was  told  that  the  original  was  at 
Palencia,  a  good  twelve  hours  north 
by  rail  from  Madrid;  and,  Baedeker 
corroborating  the  statement,  I  jour- 
neyed thither,  only  to  learn  that  it  was 
a  copy.  From  higher  sources  of  in- 
formation I  entertained  the  hope  that 
the  original  existed  at  the  queen's  pal- 
ace; but  I  found,  on  inquiring,  that 
the  queen  had  only  a  small  collection 
—no  collection,  in  fact— and  that  ex- 
Queen  Isabella  II,  residing  at  Paris, 
very  probably  had  the  picture  I  sought. 
Off  I  went  to  Paris,  only  to  learn  that 
it  was  at  Madrid,  in  the  Palace  of  the 


124 


OLD    SPANISH    MASTERS 


Asturias.  Back  I  jogged  to  Spain, 
provided  with  a  letter  to  her  Royal 
Highness  the  Infanta  Donna  Maria 
Isabella  Francisca.  This  lady  gra- 
ciously led  me  herself  to  the  picture, 
where  it  hung  in  her  bedroom,  and 
granted  me  every  facility  for  photo- 
graphing it  and  working  up  the  copy 
before  it.  The  original  measures, 
without  its  frame,  four  feet  three 
inches  high  by  three  feet  three  inches 
wide.  It  is  very  simple  in  coloring. 
The  drapery  of  the  saint,  which  is  a 
soft,  creamy  white,  makes  a  fine  ef- 
fective spot  upon  the  background  of 
umbery  atmospheric  depth.  This  is 
all  there  is,  except  that  the  desk  is  of 
a  lighter  brownish  tone  than  the  back- 
ground. Yet  it  does  not  take  much  to 
make  a  picture,  and  the  simpler  its 
elements  the  more  effective  it  becomes. 
Zurbaran,  like  Velasquez,  early 
made  it  his  determination  to  accept 
Nature  alone  as  his  mistress,  and  to 
appeal  to  her  constantly.    We  can  see 


in  the  "St.  Catharine"  evidence  of  his 
desire  to  give  a  faithful  transcript  of 
nature  in  the  carefulness  of  the  mod- 
eling of  the  robe;  in  the  delicacy  of 
the  gradation  of  the  light,  which  falls 
strongest  about  the  neck  and  shoul- 
ders and  fades  gently  downward  to 
the  knee ;  and  especially  in  the  model- 
ing of  the  hands  and  face,  which  have 
the  softness  of  flesh. 

In  the  arrangement  of  the  whole  we 
have  a  carefully  thought  out  and  well- 
balanced  composition.  The  blank  space 
above  and  behind  the  figure  offsets  the 
agreeable  disposition  of  the  objects  of 
the  other  half  of  the  canvas— the 
crucifix,  the  clasped  hands,  the  book, 
the  skull,  and  the  pendent  rosary. 
There  is  emotion  in  the  beautiful  face, 
and  one  wonders  if  the  artist  saw  this 
in  his  studio  model,  or  if  it  was  not 
rather  the  remembrance  of  some  rare 
occasion  when  for  a  brief  moment  he 
caught  some  pure,  angelic  creature 
rapt  in  reverie  and  oblivious  of  self. 

T.  C. 


m 

ALONSO   CANO 

The  last  of  the  great  Spanish  artists  who,  following  the  example  of 
Berruguete,  practised  painting,  sculpture,  and  architecture,  was 
Alonso  Cano,  bom  at  Granada  in  1601.  As  a  boy  he  learned  his 
father's  craft  of  carving  retablos  and  by  his  talents  attracted  the 
notice  of  Juan  del  Castillo,  who  advised  the  family  to  move  to  Se- 
ville. Here  Alonso  was  a  fellow-pupil  of  Velasquez  in  the  school  of 
Pacheco  for  eight  months,  after  which  he  worked  under  the  painter, 
Juan  del  Castillo.  In  sculpture  he  became  a  pupil  of  Martinez  Mon- 
tanes,  and  probably  enjoyed  the  advantage  of  studying  the  antique 
marbles  which  adorned  the  palace  and  gardens  of  the  Duke  of  Al- 
cala.  This,  at  least,  has  been  suggested  by  Cean  Bermudez,  as  an 
explanation  of  the  purity  of  style  which  his  figures  exhibit,  notwith- 
standing the  fact  that  he  never  visited  Italy.  The  general  influence 
of  his  experience  as  a  sculptor  may  be  traced  in  the  feeling  for 
rotmdness  of  form  that  his  best  paintings  reveal,  and  in  the  exquisite 
finish,  bestowed  particularly  on  the  modeling  of  the  hands.  On  the 
other  hand,  his  excellence  as  a  colorist  reacted  upon  his  sculpture, 
giving  to  some  of  his  colored  statues  an  unusual  charm  and  dis- 
tinction. 

His  most  important  work  as  a  sculptor  consisted  in  the  erection 
of  several  retablos,  of  which  a  famous  example  that  has  survived 
the  ravages  of  time  and  war  can  be  seen  in  the  Greco-Roman 
church  of  Lebrija,  a  small  town  on  the  Guadalquivir.  This  monu- 
mental altar-decoration  comprises  two  stories,  each  supported  on 

»«$ 


126  OLD    SPANISH    MASTERS 

four  spirally  fluted  columns,  with  elaborately  carved  cornices.  The 
whole  is  crowned  with  a  crucifix,  while  colossal  statues  of  Saints 
Peter  and  Paul  occupy  the  second  story,  and  a  lovely  image  of  the 
Virgin  is  enshrined  in  a  curtained  niche  over  the  slab  of  the  altar. 
This  figure  of  Madonna  with  deep-blue  eyes  and  a  mild  melancholy 
grace  is  considered  one  of  the  most  beautiful  examples  of  the  colored 
carving  of  Spain.  The  painted  panels  of  this  retablo,  not  included  in 
the  original  commission,  were  executed  by  another  hand. 

By  the  time  that  he  was  thirty-six,  Cano's  work  as  a  painter  had 
secured  him  a  foremost  position  among  the  artists  of  Seville,  when 
his  career  in  that  city  was  suddenly  cut  short.  For  some  cause,  now 
unknown,  he  fought  a  duel  with  a  brother-painter.  Llanos  y  Valdes, 
wounded  him,  and,  to  keep  out  of  the  clutches  of  the  law,  fled  to 
Madrid.  Here  he  renewed  his  acquaintance  with  Velasquez,  whose 
characteristic  generosity  procured  him  an  introduction  to  Philip  the 
Fourth's  all-powerful  minister,  Olivarez.  In  1639  he  was  appointed 
superintendent  of  certain  works  in  the  royal  palaces,  while  at  the 
same  time  engaged  in  painting  for  the  churches  and  convents.  The 
excellence  of  one  of  these  paintings  having  been  reported  to  the  king, 
he  visited  the  Church  of  Santa  Maria,  in  which  it  hung,  under  the 
pretext  of  adoring  Our  Lady  of  the  Granary,  a  celebrated  brown 
image, carved  by  Nicodemus,  colored  by  St.  Luke,  and  brought  to 
Spain  by  St.  James.  The  picture  won  the  royal  approval  and  Cano 
was; appointed  one  of  the  painters  in  ordinary  and  drawing-master 
to'  the  little  prince,  Don  Baltasar  Carlos. 

In  1 644' a  tragic  event  involved  Cano  in  a  charge  that  has  never 
been  clearly  proved  or  disproved.  His  wife  was  murdered.  Accord- 
ing to  his  own  story  he  returned  home  late  at  night  to  find  her  dead 
in  bed,  clutching  a  lock  of  hair,  and  pierced  with  fifteen  wounds,  ap- 
parently inflicted  with  a  penknife.  Her  jewels  were  missing  and  an 
Italian  man-servant  had  disappeared.  Suspicion  was  at  first  di- 
rected upon  him,  but  later  shifted  to  Cano  himself.  For  it  was 
proved  that  the  painter  had  been  jealous  of  this  man;  that  he  lived 
on  bad  terms  with  his  wife,  and  was  himself  engaged  in  an  intrigue 
with  another  woman.    Alarmed  for  his  safety,  he  fled  from  Madrid, 


MAIKINNA  AND  CHILD,     BY  AI.ONZO  CANO, 

..   ..,..  ,  ,rMiiD«AL  or  •■ritxs. 


THE  SEVENTEENTH-CENTURY  SCHOOL  OF  ANDALUSIA     12/ 

causing  a  report  to  be  circulated  that  he  had  set  out  for  Portugal, 
but  really  seeking  refuge  in  Valencia.  For  various  monasteries  that 
gave  him  shelter  he  executed  paintings,  until  sufficient  time  had 
elapsed  to  make  it  appear  safe  for  him  to  return  to  Madrid.  He  was 
received  into  the  house  of  his  friend  the  Reg^dor,  Don  Rafael  San- 
guineto,  but  nevertheless  was  arrested  and  condemned  to  the  test  of 
torture.  Having  obtained  exemption  for  his  right  hand  on  the  plea 
of  being  a  painter,  he  went  through  the  ordeal  without  uttering  a 
cry  and  was  judicially  acquitted.  Whether  he  was  really  innocent 
of  the  crime  remains  unknown ;  but  it  may  be  noted  in  his  favor  that 
the  Regidor  Sanguineto  seems  to  have  believed  it,  and  that  he  con- 
tinued to  receive  patronage  both  from  the  court  and  church. 

Some  six  years  after  the  tragedy  he  determined  to  enter  the 
priesthood  and  moved  back  to  his  native  city,  Granada.  The  stall  of 
a  minor  canon  of  the  cathedral  becoming  vacant,  he  sought  through 
friends  his  own  appointment  to  the  post,  on  the  imderstanding  that 
in  lieu  of  choral  duties  he  should  superintend  the  architecture  and 
decorations  for  the  cathedral.  There  was  opposition  in  the  chapter, 
but  it  was  overruled  by  Philip  IV,  who  prevailed  on  the  Nimcio  to 
grant  the  painter  dispensation  from  choral  duties,  provided  he  took 
holy  orders  within  a  year.  Installed  in  his  new  position,  he  con- 
ciliated the  chapter  by  designing  two  silver  lamps  for  the  chapel  and 
an  elaborate  lectern  of  fine  woods,  bronze,  and  precious  stones  for 
the  choir.  The  top  of  the  lectern  he  also  adorned  with  an  exquisite 
statue  of  Our  Lady  of  the  Rosary,  about  eighteen  inches  high,  while 
for  the  sacristy  he  painted  eleven  pictures,  nine  of  them  representing 
episodes  in  the  life  of  the  Virgin,  and  two,  the  heads  of  Adam  and 
Eve.  At  the  same  time  he  executed  sculpture  and  painting  for  some 
of  the  convents  in  the  neighborhood ;  visited  Malaga  to  make  a  de- 
sign for  a  high  altar,  and  also  executed  commissions  for  private 
patrons  in  Granada. 

With  one  of  these  Cano  came  into  conflict  over  the  price  of  a 
statue  of  St.  Anthony.  To  the  objection,  that  the  amount  was  too 
much  for  a  work  which  had  taken  only  twenty-five  days  to  accom- 
plish, he  made  the  retort  that  perhaps  suggested  Whistler's  in  simi- 


128  OLD    SPANISH    MASTERS 

lar  circumstances :  "You  are  a  bad  reckoner ;  I  have  been  fifty  years 
learning  to  make  such  a  statue  in  twenty-five  days."  "And  I," 
rejoined  the  other,  "have  spent  my  youth  and  my  patrimony  on 
universities'  studies  and  now  being  auditor  of  Granada— a  far 
nobler  profession  than  yours— I  earn  each  day  a  bare  dubloon." 
"Yours  a  nobler  profession !"  was  the  hot  reply;  "know  that  the  king 
can  make  auditors  of  the  dust  of  the  earth,  but  that  God  reserves  to 
himself  the  creation  of  such  as  Alonso  Cano."  And  the  artist  dashed 
the  St.  Anthony  to  pieces  on  the  floor.  Such  sacrilege  was  an  of- 
fence within  the  jurisdiction  of  the  holy  office;  but  the  auditor, 
instead  of  laying  information  with  that  body,  prevailed  on  the  chap- 
ter to  declare  Cano's  stall  vacant,  because  he  had  delayed  to  take 
priest's  orders.  The  painter  appealed  to  the  king,  who  obtained  for 
him  from  the  bishop  of  Salamanca  a  chaplaincy  which  entitled  the 
holder  to  full  orders,  while  the  Nuncio  supplied  a  dispensation  from 
saying  mass.  So  Cano  returned  to  Granada  and  triumphantly  re- 
sumed his  stall,  but  never  afterward  would  ply  chisel  or  brush  in  the 
service  of  the  cathedral.  The  remainder  of  his  life  was  chiefly  de- 
voted to  piety  and  charitable  works;  the  latter  so  draining  his 
resources  that  when  in  1667  he  was  attacked  by  his  last  sickness  the 
chapter  voted  five  hundred  reals  to  "the  Canon  Cano,  being  sick  and 
very  poor  and  without  means  to  pay  the  doctor" ;  and  a  week  later 
another  two  hundred  reals  to  buy  him  "poultry  and  sweetmeats." 
He  died  on  the  third  of  October,  1667. 


NOTES  BY  THE  ENGRAVER 

ALONSO  CANO  was  one  of  the  in  1667.  Besides  painting,  he  excelled 
ix.  greatest  artists  of  Andalusia.  He  in  sculpture  and  architecture.  He  is 
was  bom  at  Granada  in  1601,  two  described  as  a  restless  spirit,  of  way- 
years  after  Velasquez;  and  after  study-  ward  habits  and  of  a  tempestuous  na- 
ing  and  working  much  at  Seville  and  ture,  characteristics  which  are  by  no 
at  Madrid, — at  the  latter  place  being  means  reflected  in  his  works,  which, 
aided  and  befriended  by  Velasquez, —  on  the  contrary,  breathe  a  feeling  of 
he  returned  to  Granada,  and  died  there  peace  and  serenity.     Notwithstanding 


•  •  *  •  •    • 


t     « 
t  t    <    ,r   c      t 

1      c     <  <  »    t      c 


ST.  AGNES.     BY  ALONZO  CANO. 

BERLIN    Mt'SEl'M. 


THE  SEVENTEENTH-CENTURY  SCHOOL  OF  ANDALUSIA 


129 


his  restlessness,  he  is  said  to  have  been 
indolent,  and  to  this  is  ascribed  his 
preferring  rather  to  appropriate  the 
ideas  of  others  than  to  bestir  himself 
to  original  research  and  invention.  He 
borrowed  from  every  source,  however 
insignificant,  and  of  his  own  few  mo- 
tives made  numerous  repetitions.  He 
had,  however,  periods  of  inspiration, 
when  he  produced  work  like  "Our 
Lady  of  Bethlehem."  This  is  one 
of  his  very  latest  pictures,  and  was 
painted,  on  one  of  his  visits  to  Mal- 
aga, for  a  gentleman  who,  being  a 
minor  canon  of  the  cathedral  of  Se- 
ville, made  a  present  of  it  to  that 
church,  where  it  still  remains  in  its 
original  place,  a  small  chapel  to  the 
left  of  the  door  leading  to  the  court 
of  orange-trees. 

Next  to  the  Madonnas  of  Murillo, 
this  is  probably  the  most  beautiful  pic- 
ture of  its  kind  ever  executed  in  Spain. 
It  undoubtedly  is  the  artist's  master- 
piece. Nothing  could  be  more  simple 
or  effective  as  a  composition.  Cano, 
more  than  any  other  painter  of  his 
day,  aimed  at  cutting  short  the  details 
and  accessories  of  his  art  with  a  view 
to  expression ;  and  to  this  end  also  he 
aU)rcviated  his  values  of  light  and 
shade,  and  reduced  his  pigments  to 
the  fewest  possible.  He  carried  this 
idea  to  the  verge  of  inanity  and  empti- 
ness, thereby  rendering  much  of  his 
work  abortive.  This  canvas,  however, 
leaves  nothing  to  be  desired.  In  color- 
ing it  is  a  luminous  and  harmonious 
ensemble,  rich,  and  with  a  soft,  warm 
glow.  The  cool,  umbery  background, 
of  atmospheric  depth,  moving  and  ten- 
der ;  the  k>vely,  quiet  blue  of  the  Ma- 
donna's mantle,  into  which  this  is  del- 
icately and  insensibly  modulated ;  the 
scarcely  perceptible  note  of  crimson  of 
the  robe  beneath  the  mantle ;  the  pearly 
bit  of  white  linen;  and  the  melbw. 


subtle  flesh-tones— all  these,  quite  im- 
possible to  describe,  lie  steeped  in  a 
soft  envelop  of  light,  ver)'  gratifying  to 
the  eye.  The  finish  of  hands  and  feet 
were  refinements  that  always  distin- 
guished the  work  of  Cano.  The  hand 
of  the  Child,  extended  in  blessing,  is 
subdued  in  its  value,  evidently  that  it 
may  interfere  as  little  as  possible  with 
the  expression  of  the  head  of  the 
Virgin.  The  combination  of  sweet- 
ness and  gravity  in  the  precocious 
Child  is  well  expressed.  This  picture 
is  painted  on  canvas,  and  the  figures 
are  life-size. 

"St.  Agnes,"  virgin  and  martyr,  is 
accompanied  by  a  lamb,  emblematical 
of  her  name  and  purity  (Agnes  is  the 
Latin  word  for  lamb).  Her  legend 
is  one  of  the  oldest  in  the  Christian 
church,  as  well  as  the  most  authentic 
in  its  main  features.  She  was  a  Ro- 
man, and  was  early  distinguished  for 
her  gracious  sweetness,  humility,  and 
beauty.  The  son  of  the  prefect  of 
Rome,  becoming  enamored  of  her,  de- 
sired her  for  his  wife,  but  she  repelled 
his  advances  with  scorn,  avowing  that 
she  was  already  betrothed  to  Christ. 
As  an  edict  had  been  pronounced 
against  all  Christians,  the  father  of 
the  young  man— the  prefect— threw 
her  into  prison.  She  was  further  ac- 
cused of  sorcery,  and  put  to  death, 
January  21,  a.d.  304. 

Two  churches,  one  within  and  one 
without  the  walls  of  Rome,  bear  her 
name,  and  reverence  is  yet  daily  paid 
to  her  memory.  She  is  the  favorite 
saint  of  Roman  women,  and  is  the 
patroness  of  maidens  and  maidenly 
modesty.  She  bears  the  palm  as  a 
symbol  of  her  martyrdom  and  victory. 

The  picture  is  one  of  the  best  can- 
vases of  the  artist.  The  character  of 
the  saint  is  well  imagined.  Her  erect 
attitude,  jetty  hair,  and  lustrous  black 


I30 


OLD  SPANISH  MASTERS 


eyes,  and  the  firm  way  in  which  she 
grips  the  palm,  show  a  maiden  of 
spirit.  As  a  corollary  to  this,  the  veil, 
which  adds  much  distinction  to  the 
head,  is  floating  on  the  air  as  if  flung 
out  by  a  spirited  turn  of  the  head.  Ad- 
mirable, also,  are  the  purity  and  sweet- 
ness depicted  in  the  countenance.  The 
painting  is  in  the  royal  gallery  of  Ber- 
lin, and  measures  two  feet  seven  inches 
wide  by  three  feet  ten  inches  high.  The 


figure  is  life-size,  and  the  colors  are 
very  simple;  background  gray  and 
umber ;  dress  a  yellowish  brown,  float- 
ing delicately  into  it ;  rich  black  waist, 
against  which  the  white  of  the  chemise 
is  very  effective.  A  warm  lake-col- 
ored robe  is  thrown  over  her  arm, 
falling  in  deep  rich  folds,  behind  the 
brown  pedestal  on  which  the  lamb 
rests.  T.  C. 


THE  SEVENTEENTH-CENTURY 
SCHOOL  OF  ANDALUSIA 


CHAPTER  VIII 

THE  GREAT  PERIOD  OF  THE  SEVENTEENTH-CENTURY 
SCHOOL  OF  ANDALUSIA  (continued) 

FROM  Seville,  "pearl"  of  Spanish  cities,  sprang  the  two  fore- 
most artists  of  Spain.  But,  while  Velasquez  became  the 
companion  and  painter  of  royalty  and  is  identified  with  the 
Castilian  school,  Murillo,  devoting  himself  to  the  services  of  religion 
and  the  church,  stands  for  the  ripest  product  of  the  school  of  An- 
dalusia. 

The  son  of  a  mechanic,  Caspar  Esteban,  he  is  supposed  to  have 
been  bom  on  the  last  day  of  December,  1617,  for  the  record  of  his 
baptism  shows  that  it  occurred  on  the  first  of  January,  1618.  At  the 
age  of  eleven  he  was  left  an  orphan  in  the  gfuardianship  of  a  surgeon, 
who  had  married  the  child's  aunt.  Dona  Anna  Murillo.  It  is  prob- 
ably from  her,  whom  in  after  years  he  came  to  look  back  upon  as  a 
second  mother,  that  he  assumed  the  name  by  which  he  is  best  known ; 
just  as  Velasquez  also  is  known  to  us  through  the  mother's  rather 
than  the  father's  surname.  For  this  adoption  of  the  mother's  name 
was  not  an  infrequent  practice  in  Andalusia. 

Since  the  boy  displayed  a  marked  taste  for  drawing,  his  uncle 
apprenticed  him  to  Juan  del  Castillo,  at  that  time  the  most  noted 
teacher  in  Seville,  who  had  numbered  among  his  pupils  Alonso  Cano. 
But  in  1640  the  master  transferred  his  activities  to  Cadiz,  and  Mu- 
rillo, now  in  his  twenty-second  year,  was  left  to  his  own  resources. 
Seville  was  full  of  painters,  whose  competition  was  keen;  so  the 
young  man,  as  other  aspirants  for  popular  recognition  were  doing, 

153 


134  OLD    SPANISH    MASTERS 

sought  the  humble  opportunities  afforded  by  the  Feria,  or  pubHc 
market.  Here,  amidst  the  picturesque  confusion  of  stalls  laden  with 
the  produce  of  the  neighboring  villages,  and  with  city-made  articles 
to  tempt  the  country  folk;  amid  the  moving,  chaffering,  or  idle 
throng  of  burghers,  beggars,  street-boys,  gipsies,  and  peasants,  he 
hung  up  his  assortment  of  little  sacred  pictures,  painted  upon  linen. 
His  paint-box  and  brushes  were  at  hand,  that,  if  necessary,  he  might 
alter  the  subject  to  suit  the  particular  fancy  of  a  customer;  ready 
to  transmute  an  angel  or  St.  Catharine  into  a  St.  Rufina  or  a  St. 
Justa,  Seville's  saintly  patronesses.  For  legend  tells  how  these 
maidens,  as  a  procession  passed  their  house,  left  their  potters'  wheels 
and  dared  to  make  open  profession  of  Christianity  by  seizing  and 
breaking  to  pieces  the  statue  of  Venus  that  was  being  carried  in  tri- 
umph. They  were  scourged  with  thistles,  made  to  walk  barefoot 
over  the  mountain  range  of  the  Sierra  Morena  and  then  brought 
back ;  Justa  to  die  of  starvation  in  a  dungeon,  Rufina,  after  exposure 
in  the  amphitheater,  where  the  lions  refused  to  assault  her  innocence, 
to  be  beaten  to  death. 

Doubtless  also  in  the  Feria  Murillo  displayed  among  his  relig- 
ious pictures  the  bodegones,  or  "kitchen  pictures,"  which  were  so 
popular  in  Seville,  paintings  of  still  life,  pots  and  pans,  fruit  and 
vegetables,  on  which  students  tried  their  'prentice  hands.  And  in 
the  intervals  of  waiting  for  a  customer  Murillo's  eyes  were  busy, 
laying  up  a  store  of  observation,  gaining  an  intimate  knowledge  of 
the  human  types  around  him,  and  unconsciously  shaping  his  artistic 
motive  in  one  of  the  directions  that  was  to  distinguish  it.  For  to 
these  experiences  may  be  traced  the  impressions  which  eventually 
helped  to  infuse  his  devotional  pictures  with  so  remarkable  a  blend 
of  naturalism. 

But  this  lowly  period  of  his  career  was  suddenly  interrupted  by 
the  return  home  of  a  fellow-pupil,  Pedro  de  Moya.  The  latter,  tiring 
of  the  routine  of  Juan  del  Castillo's  workshop,  had  joined  a  company 
of  Spanish  infantry,  setting  out  for  the  war  in  the  Netherlands. 
While  serving,  however,  in  Flanders  he  had  become  acquainted  with 
the  work  of  Vandyke,  the  wonder  of  which  refired  his  enthusiasm 


z 
o 


> 


?  ^ 


5? 


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5 


THE  SEVENTEENTH-CENTURY  SCHOOL  OF  ANDALUSIA     I35 

for  art,  so  that  he  abandoned  the  army,  made  his  way  to  England, 
where  Vandyke  was  painting  at  the  court  of  Charles  I,  and  enrolled 
himself  as  a  pupil.  After  the  great  artist's  death  in  1641,  he  made 
his  way  back  to  Seville,  bringing  with  him  many  copies  of  his  mas- 
ter's pictures.  The  sight  of  these  aroused  the  impulsive  tempera- 
ment of  Murillo;  opening  up  a  vision  of  what  great  art  meant  and 
making  him  resolve  to  seek  the  further  knowledge  of  it  at  its  source 
in  Italy.  But  first  he  would  go  to  Madrid  and  crave  advice  and  let- 
ters of  introduction  from  his  famous  fellow-townsman,  Velasquez. 

Accordingly  he  made  his  way  on  foot  across  the  sierras  to  Ma- 
drid, where  he  was  kindly  received  by  the  older  man,  taken  into  his 
household,  and  given  an  opportunity  of  studying  in  the  king's  gal- 
leries. Here,  during  the  absence  of  Velasquez  for  a  few  months  in 
attendance  upon  the  king,  Murillo  worked  diligently,  copying  paint- 
ings by  Ribera,  Vandyke,  and  Velasquez  himself,  who  on  his  return 
to  Madrid  was  so  pleased  with  the  studies  that  he  showed  them  to 
the  king  and  introduced  the  young  painter  to  the  prime-minister,  Oli- 
varez.  During  the  winter  of  1643- 1644  Velasquez  was  again  ab- 
sent on  an  expedition  which  the  king  in  person  was  making  against 
some  of  his  refractory  subjects,  roused  to  insurrection  by  the  misgov- 
ernmcnt  of  Olivarez,  and  the  time  was  spent  by  Murillo  in  unflag- 
ging study  of  the  masterpieces  in  the  royal  galleries.  So  rapid  was 
his  progress  in  drawing  and  color,  that  Velasquez,  recognizing  in 
him  the  making  of  a  master,  advised  him  to  go  to  Rome. 

But  to  this,  fortunately  for  his  own  individuality,  Murillo  would 
not  consent.  He  had  already  obtained  what  he  set  out  to  find;  a 
knowledge  of  great  art.  The  works  of  Titian  and  Rubens  in  the 
royal  galleries,  of  Vandyke  and  of  Velasquez  himself— these  and 
many  more  had  suggested  to  him  view-points,  methods,  and  re- 
sources, from  which  his  instinct  told  him  that  he  had  already  derived 
what  was  needful  for  his  own  personal  development.  Moreover,  he 
had  the  true  Sevillian  love  of  his  native  city,  "the  glory  of  the  Span- 
ish realms."    Seville  claimed  him. 

Arriving  there  after  an  absence  of  three  years,  he  was,  as  a 
painter,  entirely  unknown.    But  a  welcome  chance  of  gaining  recog- 


136  OLD    SPANISH    MASTERS 

nition  presented  itself.  A  member  of  the  mendicant  brotherhood  of 
Franciscans  had  collected  a  small  sum  of  money,  which  the  friars 
determined  to  spend  upon  eleven  big  paintings  to  decorate  the  clois- 
ter of  their  monastery,  the  Casa  del  Ayuntiamento.  The  amount, 
however,  being  too  small  to  interest  the  well-known  painters  of  the 
city,  the  monks  with  considerable  misgiving  intrusted  the  work  to 
the  young,  untried  Murillo.  At  the  expiration  of  three  years  the 
paintings  were  completed,  and  immediately  acclaimed  as  a  trium- 
phantly new  thing  in  Andalusian  art.  For  instead  of  the  tame  and 
mannered  style,  adopted  hitherto  by  most  of  the  painters  of  the  Se- 
ville school,  here  was  a  union  of  the  grand  style  with  a  natural  unaf- 
fectedness;  big  scope  of  composition  and  powerful  coloring,  allied 
to  a  treatment  of  the  subject  that  appealed  to  the  every-day  sympa- 
thies, alike  of  cultured  persons  and  of  the  men  and  women  of  the 
people.  And  all  were  represented  in  that  spirit  of  devotional  ecstacy 
which  was  characteristic  of  the  religious  feeling  of  the  period. 

For  by  this  time  the'  terrors  of  the  auto  da  fe  and  the  Inquisition 
had  been  succeeded  by  the  wise  and  gentle  influnce  of  the  Jesuits, 
who  were  trying  to  win  souls  through  love.  Yet  the  stern  conflict 
between  Moors  and  Christians  had  left  a  legacy,  still  in  force 
throughout  Spain,  of  deep  seriousness ;  and  this  in  Andalusia,  where 
nature  is  romantically  beautiful,  and  the  population,  richly  veined 
with  Moorish  blood,  is  quick  of  impulse  and  imagination,  had  pro- 
duced, when  leavened  with  the  fervor  of  religious  love  and  devotion, 
a  prevalence  of  spiritual  ecstacy.  Monks  and  nuns  saw  visions,  and 
the  people  received  these  tokens  of  divine  favor  with  devout  belief. 
And  now  in  the  midst  of  this  piously  passionate  community  had  ap- 
peared a  painter,  himself  a  devout  Catholic,  who  could  give  the 
noblest  expression  to  what  was  in  the  souls  of  all;  and  more,  could 
satisfy  the  love  of  life,  of  their  own  life  as  they  knew  it,  which  was 
equally  a  characteristic  of  these  people. 

In  this  series  of  subjects  he  represented  alike  the  elevated  soul- 
condition,  the  miraculous  intervention  of  the  world  of  spirits,  and 
the  homely  and  familiar  incidents  of  this  one.  "St.  Francis," 
stretched  on  an  iron  pallet,  listens  with  rapt  emotion  to  an  angel 


».    •  •  •     • 

»•   •  •    •   • 

•  '.»  •     •• 

'  •       •     • 


•••••.  • 


•-•  :'•  :• 


••-  •  -•  •  '•  •  •  ■ 


TUK   ADORATION   OK   THE    SlIErilERDS.     iJV    xMURlLLO. 


SEVILLE  MUSEUM. 


THE  SEVENTEENTH-CENTURY  SCHOOL  OF  ANDALUSIA     I37 

playing  the  violin.  Here  were  shown  the  "Death  of  St.  Clara,"  that 
favored  saint  who  had  received  the  veil  from  St.  Francis;  the  "Ec- 
stacy  of  St.  Giles"  and  the  miracle  vouchsafed  to  the  monk  who,  as 
he  busied  himself  in  the  kitchen,  fell  into  a  trance,  during  which 
angels  appeared  and  attended  to  the  cooking.  It  is  characteristic  of 
the  temper  of  the  times  that  this  was  known  as  the  "Kitchen  Pic- 
ture." A  corresponding  blend  of  the  sublime  and  commonplace 
appears  in  "St.  Diego  Blessing  a  Pot  of  Broth"  before  distributing 
its  contents  to  a  crowd  of  beggars,  gathered  around  the  monastery 
door.  These  victims  of  misfortune  or  their  own  laziness  were  repre- 
sented with  unvarnished  realism,  the  counterparts  of  the  unfortu- 
nates that  could  be  seen  anywhere  about  the  streets  of  Seville. 

Murillo  was  about  twenty-eight  years  old  when  he  completed 
this  first  indejjendent  work,  and  found  himself  acclaimed  the  leading 
artist  of  Seville.  And,  indeed,  the  episode  is  a  remarkable  one,  per- 
haps not  to  be  paralleled  in  the  history  of  painting :  that  at  his  first 
bow  to  the  public  a  young  artist  should  have  so  completely  compre- 
hended the  needs  and  aspirations  of  the  public  and  his  own  par- 
ticular faculty.  The  explanation  is  to  be  found  in  the  fact  that  he 
himself  was  a  true  son  of  Seville,  alive  to  the  same  emotions  and 
experiences  as  his  fellows,  and  only  different  to  them  in  having  the 
power  to  give  visual  expression  to  what  was  in  their  souls  and  lives 
as  well  as  his.  There  was  not  in  his  case  the  wide  gulf  of  misunder- 
standing and  indifference  which  too  often  separates  the  artist  and 
his  public. 

Murillo  was  now  in  a  position  to  make  an  advantageous  mar- 
riage. His  house  became  the  resort  of  the  artists  and  cultured 
people  of  the  city,  and  when  Pachcco,  the  acknowledged  dean  of  the 
arts,  died  in  1654,  Murillo  succeeded  to  the  place  he  had  filled  in  the 
popular  estimation.  He  u.sed  his  influence  to  establish  in  Seville  an 
academy  of  painting.  Already  in  Madrid  Velasquez  had  felt  the  need 
of  such  an  institution,  yet,  notwithstanding  the  approval  of  the  king, 
had  been  unable  to  realize  the  scheme.  And  in  Seville  also  Murillo 
was  opposed  by  rival  painters,  such  as  Herrera  the  Younger  and 
Valdes  Leal,  whom,  however,  he  gradually  won  over  to  his  views 


138  OLD    SPANISH    MASTERS 

by  quiet  perseverence  and  urbanity.  In  1660  the  twenty-three 
leading  painters  of  the  city  enrolled  themselves  in  an  academy,  and 
elected  two  presidents,  Murillo  and  Herrera,  to  serve  alternate 
weeks  in  superintending  the  students'  work,  settling  disputes,  and 
keeping  order  in  the  school.  The  expenses  were  to  be  divided  be- 
tween the  members,  the  students  contributing  what  their  means 
would  permit.  From  each  of  the  latter  on  their  entrance  to  the 
school  was  required  the  following  confession  of  faith:— "Praised  be 
the  Most  Holy  Sacrament  and  the  pure  Conception  of  Our  Lady." 
But  the  academy  proved  unsuccessful;  Herrera  very  soon  aban- 
doned Seville  for  Madrid,  Murillo  retired  from  office;  Valdes  was 
sole  president,  tried  to  dominate  his  fellows  and,  failing,  withdrew 
in  anger,  and  the  institution  twenty  years  after  its  birth  died  of 
inanition.  Its  failure,  however,  is  worthy  of  record,  since  it  throws 
a  light  upon  artistic  conditions  in  Spain,  emphasizing  the  rivalry  of 
the  painters,  their  inability  to  cooperate  with  one  another,  and  their 
dependence  upon  the  outside  stimulus  of  the  church  and  king. 

Of  the  private  life  of  Murillo,  from  this  time  on,  there  is  nothing 
to  relate,  except  that  the  Catholic  spirit,  so  apparent  in  his  work, 
seems  to  have  ruled  in  his  home.  For  his  two  sons  became  priests ; 
the  elder,  Gabriel,  migrating  to  America,  while  his  daughter,  Fran- 
cesca,  entered  the  convent  of  the  Mother  of  God,  in  Seville.  The 
other  facts  of  his  life  were  summed  up  in  his  professional  career ;  an 
interrupted  peace  of  active  productivity.  The  end  was  brought 
about  by  a  fall  from  a  scaffold,  while  he  was  engaged  in  painting  a 
"Marriage  of  St.  Catharine"  for  the  high  altar  of  the  Church  of  the 
Capuchin  Friars  at  Cadiz.  Whether  the  accident  occurred  in  that 
city  or  in  his  own  studio  is  unknown,  but  it  is  certain  that  the  last 
days  of  his  life  were  spent  in  Seville.  As  the  end  approached,  he 
would  spend  hours  in  prayer  in  his  parish  church  of  Santa  Cruz, 
kneeling  before  Campafia's  picture  of  the  "Descent  from  the  Cross." 
Painted  a  hundred  years  earlier  it  was  as  different  as  possible  to 
Murillo's  latest  style  of  soft  outline,  delicious  color,  and  beatific 
sentiment.  Harsh  in  drawing  and  crudely  realistic,  Pacheco  had 
said  of  it  that  he  would  avoid  being  left  alone  with  it  in  the  dimly 


-'t     ,*c*" 


A  SPANISH    FLOWER-GIRL.     BV   MURILLO. 

IN    THE  GALLERY   OF    DLLWICH    COLLEGE,    ENGLAND, 


THE  SEVENTEENTH-CENTURY  SCHOOL  OF  ANDALUSIA     1 39 

lighted  chapel ;  but  Murillo  admired  it.  On  one  occasion,  lingering 
longer  than  usual  before  it,  he  was  approached  by  the  sacristan, 
inquiring  why  he  waited,  since  the  Angelus  had  sounded.  "I  am 
waiting,"  he  replied,  "until  these  men  have  brought  the  body  of  our 
Blessed  Lord  down  the  ladder."  Beneath  this  picture,  by  his  own 
request,  he  was  buried.  The  end  came  on  April  3rd,  1682,  some  two 
years  after  the  death  of  his  wife. 

Among  the  earliest  pictures,  executed  after  Murillo  had  estab- 
lished his  reputation,  were  "The  Adoration  of  the  Shepherds,"  the 
"Flower-Girl,"  and  the  "Holy  Family  with  the  Bird,"  which  are 
reproduced  in  the  accompanying  engravings.  The  last  two  are 
frankly  naturalistic;  there  being  nothing,  even  in  the  sacred  subject, 
that  separates  it  from  the  ordinary  aspects  of  a  happy  domestic 
scene  in  the  workshop  of  some  artisan  of  the  period.  Even  in  the 
"Adoration"  the  expression  in  the  several  faces  around  the  Holy 
Child  betoken  little,  if  anything,  more  of  reverence  than  is  expended 
in  every-day  life  on  the  worship  of  the  baby.  In  fact  the  charm  of 
the  picture  exists  in  the  fact  that  Murillo,  like  Rembrandt,  has 
brought  the  sacred  story  down  into  touch  with  ordinary  human 
experiences,  thereby  giving  the  latter  a  portion  of  holiness.  His 
devotion  to  infant  loveliness  is  seen  at  its  highest  in  his  "Vision  of 
St.  Anthony"  of  Padua  in  Seville  cathedral.  It  is  not  the  saint 
which  interests  us,  but  the  miracle  of  sight  as  the  radiance  of  heaven 
bursts  into  the  dim  cloister,  and  a  multitude  of  baby  forms  are  re- 
vealed, dancing  like  motes  in  sunshine.  It  is  the  apotheosis  of  the 
cult  of  infancy;  the  assemblage  in  triumphant  form  of  the  little 
miracles  of  worship  that  occur  in  countless  happy  homes. 

For  the  cathedral  Chapter  House  Murillo  painted  a  full-leng^ 
"Virgin  of  the  Conception"  and  eight  oval  half-length  pictures  of 
saints,  after  the  completion  of  which  he  received  the  important 
commission  for  decorating  the  Hospital  of  the  Holy  Charity.  "This 
house,"  declares  the  inscription  over  the  entrance,  "will  stand  as 
long  as  God  shall  be  feared  in  it  and  Jesus  Christ  be  served  in  the 
presence  of  the  poor.  Whosoever  enters  here  must  leave  at  the  door 
both  avarice  and  pride."    And  after  nearly  two  hundred  and  fifty 


14°  OLD    SPANISH    MASTERS 

years  La  Caritad  still  stands,  a  monument  of  the  piety  of  Don  Mig- 
uel Manara  Viceptelo,  who  devoted  his  life  to  obtaining  funds  for 
its  restoration  and  endowment.  For  the  adornment  of  the  church 
Murillo  painted  eleven  pictures,  eight  of  which  were  carried  away 
to  France  by  the  enlightened  thief,  Marshal  Soult.  One  of  these, 
the  "St.  Elizabeth  of  Hungary,"  which,  after  being  restored  to 
Spain,  now  hangs  in  the  academy  in  Madrid,  gives  a  fair  idea  of 
Murillo's  treatment  of  biblical  and  saintly  themes.  The  figure  of 
Elizabeth  is  the  key  to  the  whole  composition ;  the  eye  is  irresistibly 
drawn  to  it,  but  not  to  linger  on  it,  for  the  face  lacks  charm  and  the 
pose  of  the  figure  suggests  a  certain  artificiality.  In  his  desire  to 
represent  the  spiritual  abstraction  of  the  saint,  occupied  primarily 
with  the  love  of  the  Saviour,  her  administrations  to  the  beggar  (el 
tinoso— whence  a  popular  name  of  the  picture),  seem  almost  per- 
functory. Indeed,  it  is  toward  the  persons  who  await  their  turn  that 
the  attention  is  drawn,  especially  to  the  realism  of  the  man  who  is 
unwinding  the  bandage  from  his  sore.  Such  realism  may  be  repul- 
sive to  modern  taste,  but  was  common  enough  in  Spanish  art,  espe- 
cially in  the  pictures  designed  by  the  church  for  the  edification  of 
the  faithful.  They  felt,  as  did  Theophile  Gautier,  that  "Christian 
art,  like  Christian  charity,  feels  no  disgust  at  such  a  spectacle. 
Everything  which  it  touches  becomes  pure,  elevated  and  ennobled, 
and  from  this  revolting  theme  Murillo  has  created  a  masterpiece." 
Gautier  had  in  mind  the  excellence  of  the  drawing,  the  skill  in  the 
distribution  of  the  figures,  the  imposing  composition  of  their  union 
with  the  architecture,  the  coloring  and  luminous  fabric  of  light  and 
shadow.  "The  picture  may  be  studied,"  writes  Paul  Lefort,  "as  one 
of  the  best  manifestations  of  the  characteristics  and  tendencies  of 
the  Spanish  schools;  a  sublimity  in  conception,  linked  to  the  most 
audacious  naturalism  in  form :  qualities  and  defects  which  seem  the 
essence  and  originality  of  Spanish  genius." 

It  is  customary  to  summarize  the  method  of  Murillo  as  repre- 
senting three  styles— the  estilo  frio,  or  cold  style;  estilo  calido,  or 
warm  style ;  and  el  vaporoso,  or  vaporous  and  misty.  Many  of  his 
earlier  pictures  are  cold  and  somber  in  tone,  sad  in  coloring,  black 


THE  SEVENTEENTH-CENTURY  SCHOOL  OF  ANDALUSIA     14I 

in  the  shadows,  jejune  and  trivial  in  character  and  expression.  The 
warm  style  is  marked  by  deeper  coloring  and  strong  contrasts  of 
light  and  shadow,  yet  the  light  is  actual  light  and  the  modeling  of 
the  forms  well  defined.  In  the  vaporous  style  he  exhibits  the  desire 
of  all  colorists  to  get  away  from  the  opacity  of  pigments ;  to  repre- 
sent colored  light.  Although  still  of  solid  impasto  (hence  the  endur- 
ing quality  of  his  painting),  his  brushwork  is  now  loose  and  free, 
producing  effects  by  a  variety  of  tints  melting  into  one  another,  the 
draperies  being  arranged  now  in  sharp  folds,  now  in  flat.  He 
models  in  the  light  without  the  aid  of  gray  shadows ;  his  palette  is 
spread  with  warm  and  cheerful  colors;  his  figures  are  overflowing 
with  life  and  sensibility;  he  has  found  the  secret  of  so  dematerializ- 
ing  them,  partly  through  their  gestures  and  partly  through  his 
handling  of  drapery,  chiaroscuro,  and  accessories,  that  they  seem  to 
float  in  the  air.    His  visions  are,  as  it  were,  woven  of  light  and  air. 

On  the  other  hand,  it  is  not  to  be  supposed  that  all  his  pictures 
can  be  sorted  and  labeled  according  to  the  above  distinctions.  The 
latter  are  chiefly  valuable  as  generalizations,  summarizing  the  vari- 
ous phases  of  his  style.  What  is  of  more  account  for  the  apprecia- 
tion of  Murillo  is  to  recognize  that,  like  the  other  artists  of  Spain, 
he  was  by  instinct  a  naturalist.  He  delighted  in  representing  the 
actual  life  around  him,  and  even  when  he  borrows  from  it  a  model 
for  some  spiritualized  form,  allows  the  touch  of  the  familiar  to 
remain.  His  Madonnas  and  angels,  no  less  than  the  beggar-boys 
and  flower-girls,  betray  their  Andalusian  origin.  He  does  not  ideal- 
ize the  type;  but,  when  the  subject  demands  it,  sets  the  familiar 
individuality  in  ideal  postures,  amid  idealized  surroundings.  If  in 
doing  so  he  finally  adopted  a  manner  which  grew  to  be  somewhat 
manneristic,  and  lavished  sentiment  to  the  verge  Of  sentimentality, 
the  fault  is  perhaps  less  his  own  than  that  of  the  conditions  which 
he  so  faithfully  represented. 

The  church  has  been  always  apt  to  enjoin  certain  manners  of 
representing  sacred  subjects  and  in  the  Andalusia  of  Murillo's  day 
the  influence  of  the  church  was  paramount.  It  appointed  inspectors 
of  pictures  to  watch  that  no  indecorous  or  indecent  paintings  found 


142  OLD    SPANISH    MASTERS 

their  way  into  churches  or  were  exposed  for  sale.  This  office,  when 
Murillo  returned  to  Seville,  was  held  by  Pacheco,  who,  being  as 
facile  with  his  pen  as  with  his  brush,  had  published  a  set  of  regula- 
tions presenting  the  way  in  which  a  painter  should  or  should  not 
represent  the  sacred  characters.  In  several  respects  Murillo  trans- 
gressed these  instructions,  as  when  he  made  the  Virgin  dark  instead 
of  fair,  and  established  a  manner  of  his  own  by  which,  however,  he 
became  himself  bound ;  for  so  popular  did  it  prove,  that  commissions 
for  pictures  of  similar  character  poured  in  upon  him,  and  even  his 
fertility  of  invention  necessarily  reached  its  limit.  As  to  his  senti- 
ment, it  was  the  reflection  of  the  Andalusian  feeling,  the  highly 
strung  fervor  of  a  people  charged  to  the  full  with  a  blend  of  the 
religious  and  the  mundane.  Murillo's  own  portrait,  painted  by 
himself,  reveals  this  blend  in  a  marked  degree,  even  at  the  age  of 
sixty.  The  forehead  is  high  and  modeled  with  those  slight  bosses 
which  are  said  to  betray  a  quick  but  rather  feminine  intelligence, 
and  the  black  eyes  are  penetrating  and  full  of  fire ;  but  the  lower  part 
of  the  face  is  coarse,  the  lips  being  thick  and  the  chin  heavy  in  out- 
line—a combination  of  high  sensibility  and  sensuousness. 

In  none  of  his  works  are  these  qualities  more  conspicuous  than 
in  his  picture  of  the  "Immaculate  Conception,"  of  which  he  painted 
more  than  twenty  examples.  This  dogma,  that  the  Blessed  Virgin 
came  into  the  world  as  spotless  as  her  Son,  was  formulated  in  the 
fifth  century,  but  its  acceptance  was  left  to  the  exercise  of  free  judg- 
ment. In  1607,  however,  Spain,  with  whose  revival  of  Catholicism 
had  grown  up  a  revival  also  of  the  cult  of  the  Virgin,  persuaded 
Pope  Paul  to  issue  a  bull  which  forbade  the  preaching  or  teaching 
of  anything  contrary  to  this  doctrine.  Upon  its  application  "Seville 
flew  into  a  frenzy  of  joy.  Archbishop  de  Castro  performed  a  mag- 
nificent service  in  the  cathedral,  and  amidst  the  thunder  of  the  or- 
gans and  the  choir,  the  roar  of  all  the  artillery  on  the  river  walls, 
and  the  clangor  of  all  the  bells  in  all  the  churches,  swore  to  maintain 
and  defend  the  peculiar  tenet  of  his  see." 

In  Murillo's  rendering  of  this  mystery,  the  Virgin,  surrounded 
by  an  aurora  of  luminous  glow,  is  poised  in  the  sky,  yet  she  scarcely 


ST. 


WW  Ti  \(iii.N(;  THK  vik<;i.\. 

fHAIIO  m-WtH,    MAIMin 


IIV    MlkllH). 


THE  SEVENTEENTH-CENTURY  SCHOOL  OF  ANDALUSIA     1 43 

lifts  the  imagination  upward.  Rather,  she  brings  it  down  to  contem- 
plation of  an  earthly  perfection  of  purity.  She  is  a  child  of  earth, 
with  that  pure  detachment  from  the  consciousness  of  sex,  that  ex- 
pression of  dreamy  awe  and  wonder,  such  as  the  artist  may  have 
seen  in  the  faces  and  forms  of  maidens  at  their  first  communion. 
Exquisitely  beautiful  in  their  purity,  but  of  our  own  flesh  and  blood. 
And  what  are  the  attending  angels  but  earthly  babies,  seen  through 
the  prismatic  glamour  of  fond  parents'  eyes?  One  is  scarcely 
conscious  of  spirituality  in  these  pictures,  still  less  of  sublimity  of 
conception,  but  touched  with  reverential  tenderness.  And  it  was 
so,  we  may  suspect,  that  Murillo  felt  toward  his  subject  and  the 
public  toward  his  representations  of  it;  and  it  is  their  intrinsic 
humanness  probably  that  has  endeared  them  to  countless  people  up 
to  our  own  time. 

For  the  past  fifty  years,  however,  realism  has  ruled  the  studios ; 
Velasquez  has  occupied  the  study  of  artists,  and  Murillo,  the  blend 
of  naturalism  and  pietism,  has  been  compared,  to  his  own  disadvan- 
tage, with  his  contemporary,  the  naturalist  par  excellence.  The 
comparison  is  unjust  and  profitless.  Velasquez  was  in  the  nature  of 
a  specialist  devoting  himself  to  the  almost  exclusive  study  of  visible 
phenomena;  Murillo,  through  the  demand  of  his  surroundings,  di- 
vided his  time  between  the  visible  and  what  lies  within  it  and  beyond 
it.  But  it  has  been  remarked  that,  when  painting  or  sculpture  at- 
tempts to  explore  the  moods  of  emotion  and  spirit,  it  is  transgress- 
ing beyond  its  own  domain  into  that  of  poetry  and  music ;  that  this 
is  a  weakness  in  Michelangelo's  work,  for  example,  as  compared 
with  Greek  Classic  art.  Well,  it  may  be  so  according  to  strict 
academic  conventions;  but,  just  as  the  human  will  rebels  against 
arbitrary  curtailment  of  its  liberty,  so  art  has  always  scorned  re- 
strictions, A  product  of  complete  humanity,  it  has  resisted  the  at- 
tempt to  confine  it  within  any  four  walls  of  a  convention.  And  it 
should  be  easy  for  the  modem  mind  to  appreciate  this,  since  in 
response  to  what,  from  its  prevalence,  may  be  regarded  as  an  in- 
stinct, the  various  arts  to-day  are  borrowing  one  another's  terminol- 
ogy and  qualities. 


144  OLD    SPANISH    MASTERS 

Since,  then,  Murillo  is  in  excellent  company  in  his  attempt  to 
express  the  invisible  through  the  visible  and  familiar,  we  may  be 
satisfied  to  judge  him  not  by  formularies  but  by  actual  accomplish- 
ment. Now  the  latter,  as  we  have  observed,  is  remarkable  for  the 
fidelity  with  which  it  interpreted  the  spiritual  needs  and  strivings  of 
his  time ;  and  not  in  the  way  of  lowering  his  key  to  the  popular  taste, 
but  of  lifting  the  latter  always  to  a  higher  plane  of  feeling.  Velas- 
quez also  unquestionably  did  this;  but  in  the  domain  exclusively  of 
naturalism,  which  made  no  excursions  into  that  of  spirit  and  ap- 
pealed to  a  smaller  clientele.  Murillo,  on  the  other  hand,  had  the 
faculty  of  giving  concrete  expression  to  what  was  vaguely  in  the 
minds  and  hearts  of  thousands  of  his  countrymen ;  surely  a  privilege 
so  rare  that  such  faculty  amounts  to  genius.  And,  if  you  are  dis- 
posed to  judge  a  man  by  his  value  to  his  own  time,  Murillo  stands 
very  high.  For  an  artist,  however,  so  to  identify  himself  with  the 
spirit  of  his  time,  involves  the  inevitableness  of  participating  in  its 
weakness  as  well  as  in  its  strength;  and  the  weakness  of  Murillo, 
especially  in  the  matter  of  sentiment,  is  a  reflection  of  the  mental  and 
spiritual  weakness  of  his  contemporaries.  Moreover,  a  man  cannot 
be  the  idol  of  the  multitude  without  having  in  himself  a  measure  of 
what  is  common  to  all,  a  tincture  of  the  commonplace.  This  trait  is 
discernible  not  only  in  Murillo's  expression  of  sentiment,  but  in  the 
line  and  massing  of  his  compositions.  By  the  side  of  Velasquez,  the 
aristocrat,  Murillo  is  a  bourgeois. 


NOTES  BY  THE  ENGRAVER 

WHEN    Murillo   was   a   student,  of  Velasquez,  his  fellow-townsman  at 

twenty-four    years    old,    poor,  Madrid,  and  formed  a  resolution  to 

dissatisfied,     and    painting    fanciful,  obtain  the  advice  of  the  great  man  as 

gaudy,  and  unsubstantial  pictures  of  to  the  best  course  to  pursue  in  his 

saints  and  the  like  for  the  churches  art  studies.    To  raise  sufficient  money 

and  monasteries  of  his  native  town,  for  his  expenses,  he  procured  a  large 

Seville,  he  heard  of  the  fame  and  work  canvas   and   filled   it  with   numerous 


ST.  JOSKrMI   AXI)  CHILI).     BY  MURII.I.o. 


•■•  VILLC  HI'MrM. 


THE  SEVENTEENTH-CENTURY  SCHOOL  OF  ANDALUSIA     145 


tnull  devotional  subjects,  which  he 
disposed  of  to  the  shippers  for  the 
Indies,  thus  killing  two  birds  with  one 
stone— contributing  to  the  edification 
of  the  faithful  in  Peru  and  Mexico 
and  putting  sufficient  money  in  his 
purse  for  his  new  venture.  Velasquez 
was  very  kind  to  him  in  every  possible 
way,  influenced  him  to  a  serious  study 
of  nature  as  well  as  of  the  best  art, 
commending  to  him  the  work  of  Ri- 
bera,  procuring  him  admission  to  the 
palaces  in  the  frc<|uent  absences  of  the 
king,  and  doubtless  giving  him  many 
valuable  criticisms  of  his  work.  His 
subjecu  at  this  time  were  beggar  boys, 
street  urchins,  peasant  and  shepherd 
boys,  old  woman  spinning,  and  the 
like— models  that  would  not  cost  him 
very  dear. 

As  many  as  fifty  such  have  been 
catalogued,  all  finished  and  attractive 
pictures;  for  he  evidently  made  his 
studies  subserve  two  ends :  instruction 
and  money.  It  is  only  the  student 
with  a  rich  father  who  can  afford  to 
multiply  studies  and  unfinished  com- 
positions that  are  of  no  interest  to 
any  one  but  himself.  The  knowledge 
that  Murillo  thus  gained  formed  the 
groundwork  of  his  later  devotional 
and  religious  works.  After  two  years 
thus  spent  in  Madrid,  he  returned  to 
Seville  and  astonished  his  friends  and 
former  neighbors,  who  wondered 
where  he  had  acquired  this  new,  mas- 
tefly,  and  unknown  manner ;  for  Mu- 
rillo had  kept  his  sojourn  in  Madrid  a 
secret,  so  that  they  never  suspected 
the  valuable  experience  he  had  under- 
gone. They  fancied  that  he  had  shut 
himself  up  for  two  years,  studying 
from  the  life,  and  had  thus  acquired 
skill. 

"The  Flowcr-Girl,"  which  hangs  in 
the  gallery  of  Ehilwich  College,  near 
London,    shows    the    sweetness    and 


grace  of  his  later  works.  We  are  ac- 
customed to  see  in  pictures  of  Spanish 
girls  something  of  the  flashing  Goya 
type,  that  of  the  dark-haired  Moorish 
extraction,  or  the  black-eyed  gipsy 
kind;  but  this  of  Murillo  is  also  a 
type  which  may  be  seen  repeatedly  in 
Madrid.  The  Spanish  maiden  invari- 
ably wears  a  flower  or  sprig  of  green 
in  her  hair,  and  I  was  told  in  Spain 
that  this  was  a  sign  of  her  virginity. 
Here  we  have  a  maid  seated,  prob- 
ably, at  the  entrance  of  the  gates  of 
the  town,  offering  roses  for  sale  to 
passers-by.  She  is  clad  in  a  yellowish 
bodice  and  dress,  while  her  under- 
sleeves  and  chemise,  with  the  turban 
about  her  head,  are  white.  Her  petti- 
coat is  a  yellow-brown ;  over  her  shoul- 
der is  a  brown  embroidered  scarf,  in 
the  end  of  which  are  four  roses— 
white  and  pink.  To  the  left  lies  a 
landscape  with  bushes  and  cloudy  sky. 
It  is  a  masterpiece  in  invention  and  in 
characteristic  harmony  of  rich  colors. 
It  is  on  canvas,  three  feet  ten  and 
three-fourth  inches  by  three  feet  one 
and  three- fourth  inches. 

For  a  full  appreciation  of  Murillo's 
art  it  is  essential  for  the  student 
visiting  Spain  to  .see  not  alone  his 
superb  works  at  the  Madrid  gallery, 
but  his  magnificent  canvases  scattered 
throughout  Seville,  especially  those  in 
the  museum  of  the  city,  where  are 
collected  upward  of  two  dozen,  many 
of  them  being  of  his  best  period.  It 
is  in  this  museum  where  the  large  can- 
vas of  the  "Adoration  of  the  Shep- 
herds" hangs,  from  which  the  present 
selection  of  the  central  and  most  inter- 
esting portion  is  taken. 

The  original  shows  two  cherubs  in 
the  sky  above,  with  additional  figures 
to  the  left,  and  more  space  to  the  right 
and  bottom  of  the  picture.  The  color- 
ing, as  is  general   in   Murillo's  best 


146 


OLD  SPANISH  MASTERS 


works,  is  rich  and  subdued  in  tone, 
and  consists  of  harmonious  blendings 
of  golden  browns,  umbery  depths,  and 
delicate  neutral  grays,  all  united  in  a 
field  of  mellow  radiance.  There  is  a 
note  of  color  in  the  robe  of  the  Ma- 
donna about  the  bosom  and  sleeve, 
which  is  a  red  of  pleasing  shade.  Her 
mantle,  falling  just  off  the  shoulder 
and  covering  the  knees,  is  a  deep,  rich 
blue,  much  more  agreeable  in  tone 
than  the  rather  hard  blues  generally 
prevailing  in  his  numerous  Conception 
pieces.  The  influence  of  his  contem- 
porary, Ribera,  is  recognized  in  the 
strong  disposition  of  the  light  and 
shade,  its  flatness,  breadth,  and  sim- 
plicity eliminating  all  details  that  are 
unnecessary  to  the  expression  of  the 
principal  parts.  How  the  eye  goes 
straight  to  the  infant  in  its  mother's 
lap!  The  child  is  one  of  the  sweetest 
creations  of  the  artist,  who  of  all 
Spaniards  possessed  the  happiest  in- 
stinct for  the  delineation  of  infants. 
Here  the  very  fragrance  of  babyhood 
seems  to  exhale  from  the  tiny  bright 
body,  wrapped  in  its  little  cloud  of 
gauzy  linen.  How  charming  to  mark 
the  beholders,  all  softened  to  infant 
tenderness,  bending  over  and  breath- 
ing in,  as  it  were,  its  sweetness,  as  of 
that  from  a  flower ! 

This  canvas  measures  seven  feet 
four  inches  high  by  five  feet  wide, 
and  is  painted  in  the  artist's  second 
manner;  for  he  had  three  distinct 
styles  during  his  life.  The  first  was 
the  frio  (or  cold),  in  which  the  out- 
line was  hard  and  the  tone  of  the 
shadows  and  treatment  of  the  lights 
reminiscent  of  Zurbaran.  The  second, 
or  calido  (warm),  style  came  with  ex- 
perience, in  which  a  softer  outline  and 
mellower  coloring  are  apparent,  as  in 
the  engraved  detail.  The  third  man- 
ner, the  vaporoso,  is  his  final  develop- 


ment, in  which  the  outlines  are  lost 
in  the  light  and  shade,  as  they  are  in 
the  rounded  forms  of  nature. 


OUTLINE  —  MURILLO  S 
"  ADORATION    OF  THE  SHEPHERDS " 


In  "St.  Anna  Teaching  the  Virgin  " 
we  are  reminded  of  the  tradition 
that  the  Virgin  Mary  was  dedicated 
to  the  Lord  and  lived  at  the  temple  in 
Jerusalem,  with  other  virgins,  after 
the  manner  of  vestals,  from  the  time 
she  was  three  years  old  till  the  period 
of  her  betrothal  at  fourteen,  "fed 
with  celestial  food  from  heaven,  and 
holding  converse  with  angels."  Her 
mother,  Anna,  visited  her  from  time 
to  time,  and  in  Murillo's  picture  we 
see  the  Virgin  in  the  portico  of  the 
temple  receiving  instruction  in  the 
Scriptures  from  her  mother.  One  of 
the  appellations  of  the  Virgin  is 
"Queen  of  Heaven,"  and,  with  this 
evidently  in  mind,  the  artist  has  added 
a  touch  of  royalty  in  the  voluminous 


THE  SEVENTEENTH-CENTURY  SCHOOL  OF  ANDALUSIA      I47 


Irain  of  her  silk  garment.  While  I 
was  copying  the  picture,  a  specUtor 
remarked  upon  the  awkwardness  and 
difficulty  that  the  little  one  would  ex- 
perience in  getting  about  in  so  flowing 
a  robe.  I  called  her  attention  to  the 
angels, — one  of  the  attributes  of  the 
Virgin,— her  ministering  spirits  ever 
in  attendance,  who,  doubtless,  might 
be  suffered  to  act  as  train-bearers. 

The  difficulty  that  many  contend 
with  is  the  modem  cynical  spirit  with 
which  they  approach  these  old  works. 
While  it  is  doubtless  incongruous  with 
the  simplicity  recorded  of  the  Virgin 
to  suppose  that  she  wore  her  skirts  of 
such  extraordinary  length,  we  must 
not  overlook  that  fact  that  symbolism 
is  here  combined  with  realism.  The 
crown  or  wreath  which  the  artist  has 
gracefully  introduced  is  the  Virgin's 
particular  attribute  as  the  Queen  of 
Heaven,  and  is  also  emblematic  of  su- 
perior power  and  virtue.  In  the  wreath 
is  seen  the  lily,— for  purity,— another 
of  the  Virgin's  attributes,  and  the 
rose,  typifying  "The  Rose  of  Sharon," 
another  of  her  many  titles.  Her  flow- 
ing robe  is  white,  for  purity,  inno- 
cence, and  virginity.  It  shades  off  in 
its  train  to  vk>let,  which  signifies  love 
and  truth,  also  passion  and  suffering. 
She  carries  a  blue  garment  over  her 
arm,  which  color  is  for  truth,  con- 
stancy, fidelity,  and  sorrow. 

While  with  the  early  religious  paint- 
ers particular  attention  is  given  to  this 
mystical  application  of  attributes  and 
cobrs,  with  the  later  sacred  historical 
painters  it  falls  into  disuse,  especially 
the  matter  of  color,  the  characteristic 
proprieties  of  which  were  sacrificed  to 
the  general  effect.  The  Virgin  and 
Christ,  however,  retained  their  time- 
honored  colors.  Thus  we  see  that 
Murillo  does  not  apply  symbolism  in 
the  colors  of  St.  Anna.    The  drapery 


falling  from  her  head  over  the  shoul- 
ders is  of  a  grayish  white  or  ashes-of- 
roses  tone,  the  skirt  about  her  lap  is  a 
yellowish  hue,  and  her  lower  skirt  is 
a  russet  brown.  But  they  are  so 
charming,  so  subtle  in  their  color  val- 
ues, that  I  have  looked  long  and  often 
at  them,  wondering  how  to  denomi- 
nate them.  The  whole  is  bathed  in  a 
cool  atmosphere,  as  though  it  were 
morning  that  the  artist  wished  to  de- 
pict, and  it  probably  is,  for  we  sec  by 
the  basket  of  bread  that  the  saint  has 
come  with  an  offering  to  the  Lord, 
How  very  natural  and  beautiful  is  the 
dignified  attitude  of  St.  Anna  as  she 
pauses  to  explain  some  portion  of  the 
Scripture,  while  her  child  glances  up 
with  reverential  attention!  This  pic- 
ture was  painted  on  canvas,  in  1674, 
a  few  years  before  the  artist's  death. 
It  is  six  feet  five  inches  wide  by  seven 
feet  seven  and  one-half  inches  high, 
and  hangs  in  the  Murillo  room— the 
octagonal— of  the  Prado  Museum  at 
Madrid. 

The  Holy  Family  "del  Pajarito," 
an  early  masterpiece,  is  one  of  the 
most  notable  examples  of  Murillo's 
second  style,— the  calido,  or  warm, 
— and  shows  the  influence  of  Ribera, 
whom  he  studied,  and  to  whom  he  is 
indebted  for  his  earliest  system  of 
lighting.  Murillo  was  a  young  man 
when  Ribera  was  at  the  zenith  of  his 
reputation.  This  warm  style  is  marked 
by  deeper  and  richer  coloring  than  his 
previous  cold  manner  generally  ex- 
hibits. The  contrasts  of  light  and 
shadow  are  stronger  and  the  forms 
come  out  with  greater  force  and  defi- 
nition. The  coloring  here  is  rich  and 
simple.  That  which  strikes  the  eye  at 
first,  and  makes  a  fine  spot,  is  the 
agreeable  tone  of  yellow  in  the  robe 
about  the  knees  of  Joseph,  which  is 
blendetl  finely  with  the  delicate  lilac 


148 


OLD    SPANISH    MASTERS 


hue  of  the  child's  garment,  and  the 
brownish  neutral  tone  of  the  floor  and 
basket.  The  dog  is  white,  but  the 
lightest  touches  in  the  picture  are  con- 
fined to  the  linen  chemise  of  the  child, 
while  the  darkest  hues  are  in  the  upper 
garment  of  Joseph,  which  is  black. 
The  Madonna's  dress  is  a  rich,  deep 
madder,  and  her  shawl  is  of  a  purplish- 
brownish  tone.  These  float  subtly  into 
the  deep  umbery  tones  of  the  dark 
neutral  background. 

The  picture  takes  its  name  "del 
Pajarito"  (of  the  little  bird)  from  the 
bird  held  aloft  in  the  infant's  hand. 
It  is  not  an  uncommon  thing,  at  the 
present  day,  in  Spain,  to  see  children 
playing  with  a  fettered  bird.  The  ar- 
tist here  takes  a  hint  from  the  life 
about  him,  and  projects  with  realistic 
truth  this  charming,  simple  home-scene 
of  the  carpenter's  shop,  in  which  he 
depicts  St.  Joseph,  in  a  moment  of  re- 
laxation from  his  labor,  recreating 
himself  with  innocent  amusement  of 
the  child  Jesus,  while  Mary,  attracted 
from  her  employment,  looks  on  with 
sweet  motherly  sympathy. 

This  work,  among  others,  was  car- 
ried off  by  Napoleon  to  Paris,  but  was 
returned  on  the  treaty  of  peace  in 
1814.  It  has  been  cut  down  on  each 
side  and  at  the  top,  but  when  is  not 
known,  and  the  want  of  space  in  the 
composition  on  these  sides— especially 
on  the  top  and  at  the  side  where  the 
Madonna  is  seated — is  accordingly  felt. 
The  picture  measures  four  feet  eight 
inches  high,  by  six  feet  three  inches 
wide,  and  the  figures  are  life-size. 

When  Murillo  came  on  the  stage, 
the  people  of  his  time  were  unaccus- 
tomed to  seeing,  in  their  devotional 
pictures,  subjects  treated  with  so 
charming  a  play  of  fancy  and  in  so 
free  and  felicitous  a  manner  as  was 
the  little  "St.  John,"  an  instance  out 


of  scores  of  similar  beautiful  things 
with  which  he  delighted  and  surprised 
the  public  of  his  native  town.  Through- 
out his  active  career,  he  kept  every 
one  interested  and  in  love  with  his 
works  by,  as  Carl  Justi  puts  it,  his 
"gift  of  a  language  intelligible  to  all 
times  and  peoples,  to  all  classes,  and 
even  to  aliens  to  his  faith."  He  tran- 
scribed Bible  stories  and  old  monkish 
chronicles  with  a  freedom  of  hand 
and  a  novel  unreserve  that  made  them 
seem  like  probable  and  every-day  oc- 
currences. In  a  word,  he  modernized 
them,  since  he  drew  his  inspiration 
from  the  circumstances  of  life  which 
he  daily  encountered.  Thus  we  have 
in  the  "St.  John  the  Baptist"  one  of 
his  beggar  boys,  but  idealized  and  im- 
bued with  that  spirituality  which  is  his 
special  and  unique  charm — is,  in  fact, 
the  very  quintessence  of  his  art. 

This  subject  forms  one  of  the  many 
rare  possessions  of  the  Prado  Gallery 
at  Madrid,  where  it  hangs  in  the  Mu- 
rillo room,  anoctagonal  space  devoted 
to  his  works.  It  is  painted  in  his  best 
manner, — his  estilo  vaporoso, —  and  is 
soft  and  luminous  in  coloring.  The 
background  is  a  delicate  tissue  of 
grays,  and  is  of  a  more  impressionistic 
nature  than  many  of  his  distances, 
since  it  carries  no  sharpness  of  defini- 
tion, no  small  varieties  of  patch  or 
modeled  detail,  but  is  broad,  aerial, 
and  of  a  fluid  looseness,  and  held  well 
in  subservience  to  the  expression  of 
the  head.  Against  this  background, 
which  is  of  an  exquisite  coolness,  the 
flesh  of  the  boy,  a  red  garment  over 
his  knees,  and  the  lamb  are  relieved  in 
the  yellow  light  of  the  setting  sun. 
Telling  as  is  this  eflfect,  there  is  no 
decorative  flashiness  about  it.  In  its 
coloring  it  has  the  solemn  mystery 
and  repose  of  nature  that  are  in  keep- 
ing with  the  solemnity  of  the  scene. 


•  ••*••       • 


•    •     ••••••      •• 


ST.  JOHN  THE  ISAI'TIST.     IIV  MIKIUXI. 


KAIIU   yv'-*" 


THE  SEVENTEENTH-CENTURY  SCHOOL  OF  ANDALUSIA      1 49 


The  unity  of  tone,  the  grayness  of  na- 
ture, the  subtle  modifications  of  color 
by  light,  are  not  lost  for  the  sake  of 
the  lower  and  cheaper  delight  of  a 
bright,  untrammcled  play  of  pigment : 
for  this  would  be  to  allow  his  color- 
scheme  to  take  precedence  of,  or  to 
preponderate  over,  the  religious  senti- 
ment which  he  seeks  above  all  things 
to  depict  in  the  child.  Hence  we  are 
impressed  at  first  sight  not  so  much  by 
its  glowing  ensemble  as  by  the  gesture 
of  adoration  expressed  in  the  whole 
of  the  figure. 

The  figure  is  life-size,  and  the  can- 
vas measures  three  feet  three  and  one 
half  inches  wide  by  four  feet  high.  It 
was  originally  in  the  possession  of  the 
Marques  de  la  Ensenada,  and  passed 
thence  into  the  collection  of  Don 
Carlos  in. 

The  "St.  Joseph  and  the  Infant 
Jesus"  is  one  of  a  series  of  religious 
pictures  executed  by  Murillo  for  the 
church  of  the  convent  of  the  Capu- 
chins at  Seville,  shortly  after  its  com- 
pletion in  1670.  They  are  nearly  all 
now  gathered  together— this  one 
among  them— in  the  museum  of  Se- 
ville, forming  there  a  matchless  col- 
lection of  the  works  of  the  great 
Sevillian  painter.  It  is  a  large  canvas, 
showing  life-size  full-length  figures. 
The  engraving  gives  a  detail  of  the 
most  interesting  portion.  Being  a  late 
work  of  the  master,  it  is  painted  in  his 
third  and  most  improved  style,  called 
el  vaporoso,  in  which  the  outlines  are 
k>st  in  the  light  and  shade,  as  they 
are  in  the  rounded  forms  of  nature. 

The  attribute  of  St.  Joseph  is  the 
rod  which  miraculously  budded  in  sign 
of  his  being  chosen,  by  divine  will, 
from  among  the  suitors  of  the  Virgin. 
This  the  artist,  by  a  happy  idea,  has 
placed  in  the  infant's  hand,  and  noth- 
ing could  be  more  beautiful  or  appro- 


priate than  the  charming  attitude  of 
the  child,  with  his  sweet  gesture  of 
innocence,  as  he  gently  reclines  his 
head  on  his  father's  bosom.  Like  the 
majority  of  Murillo's  paintings,  this 
is  an  instance  of  his  power  of  imbuing 
what  he  wished  with  a  feeling  of  pur- 
ity, which  mounts,  in  some  of  his 
grand  works,  into  one  of  profound  re- 
ligious sentiment,  capable  of  stirring 
one  deeply. 

In  coloring  it  is  very  simple  and 
sober.  The  background  sky  is  com- 
posed of  warm  grayish  tones,  umbery 
in  quality,  tinged  with  bluish  passages. 
The  robe  of  Joseph  is  of  rich,  neutral 
brownish  shades,  and  the  dress  of  the 
child  is  a  delicate  light  gray  of  a  pink- 
ish blush.  The  whole  is  soft  and  at- 
mospheric. 

"The  Prodigal  Son  Feasting"  is  one 
of  a  series  of  four  small  sketches,  ten 
and  a  half  by  thirteen  and  a  half 
inches,  carefully  finished,  as  all  Mu- 
rillo's work  is,  and  representing  the 
prodigal  son  at  various  stages  of  his 
career  according  to  the  parable  of  the 
New  Testament.  They  are  seen  in  the 
Murillo  room — the  octagonal— of  the 
Prado  Museum  at  Madrid.  They  are 
painted  in  the  artist's  best  and  latest 
manner.  I  saw  the  large  finished  pic- 
ture for  which  this  small  sketch  was 
evidently  made,  at  the  Spanish  Loan 
Exhibitbn  held  at  Guildhall,  London, 
in  1 90 1,  but  it  struck  me  as  heavy 
compared  with  this  sketch ;  the  darks 
in  the  background,  even  in  the  bushes 
beyond  the  wall,  being  as  murky  as 
those  of  the  foreground.  But  this  little 
sketch,  infinitely  to  be  preferred,  is 
gay  and  clear  and  brilliant  with  gem- 
like coloring,  and  has  that  lightness 
and  spontaneity  of  touch— the  natural 
concomitant  of  a  work  of  first  hand- 
that  constitutes  so  charming  a  quality 
in  a  work  of  art.    Seated  at  a  table, 


15° 


OLD  SPANISH  MASTERS 


and  arrayed  in  a  red  doublet  and  felt 
hat  decorated  with  a  large  white 
plume,  and  thus  distinguished  from 
the  rest  of  the  company,  the  hilarious 
youth  is  entertaining  or  being  enter- 
tained by  two  of  the  fair  sex,  while 
behind  are  two  servants,  one  present- 
ing him  a  goblet  of  wine,  and  the  other 
bearing  aloft  on  a  tray  a  roasted  fowl. 
In  the  foreground  a  musician,  seated, 
is  playing  the  guitar.  It  is  twilight, 
and  the  lamps  already  lighted  shed  a 
flood  of  mellow  radiance  upon  the  table 
and  the  surrounding  group,  and  as  the 
light  comes  from  above  the  musi- 
cian's head,  he  is  naturally  thrown  in- 
to shade,  which  serves  the  artist's 
scheme  of  composition  in  concentrat- 
ing attention  upon  the  group.  The 
background,  which  serves  to  throw  this 
in  relief,  is  in  the  conventional  man- 
ner and  color  of  the  time ;  the  sky  be- 
ing of  a  warm  greenish  cast  shading 
to  a  yellower  hue  and  blending  with 
the  neutral  green  of  the  trees  and  the 
gray  wall  and  field.  This  sky  extends 
back  of  the  figures,  mingling  with 
their  embrowned  shades  and  the  dark 
red  drapery  hung  from  the  pillars, 
and  floating  into  the  umbrose  tone 
against  which  the  forms  of  the  pewter 
vessels  are  softly  relieved.  It  is  all 
mellifluous  and  atmospheric,  and  serves 
its  purpose  admirably,  but  had  Mu- 
rillo  been  aware  of  the  late  discovery 
that  this  background  in  juxtaposition 
with  the  lamplight  effect  would  be 
steeped  in  a  cool  and  purple  tone,  in- 
stead of  a  warm  and  green  one,  what 
a  glorious  contrast  and  effect  of  pur- 
ple and  gold  he  would  have  produced ! 
The  art  of  his  day,  however,  did  not 
seek  color  effects  in  the  sense  of  color 
values,  but  was  intent  upon  the  subject 
merely,  and  to  deck  it  in  agreeable  and 
harmonious  tones.  There  are  beauti- 
ful bits  of  color  in  the  draperies  of 


the  women :  the  one  by  the  prodigal 
is  in  a  green  dress  lustrous  and  gem- 
like in  tone,  and  the  graceful  figure 
of  the  other  is  a  yellow  tone  mingled 
with  creamy  lace  and  touches  of  black 
velvet,  perfectly  lovely,  both  as  to 
color  and  freedom  of  treatment.  No- 
tice that  the  dog  coming  from  beneath 
the  tablecloth  is  artfully  introduced 
in  order  to  break  what  would  other- 
wise be  a  disagreeable  repetition  of 
the  horizontal  line  of  the  table  above. 

Murillo  was  essentially  a  religious 
and  idealistic  painter  and  his  concep- 
tion of  this  scene  is  naturally  steeped 
with  the  sentiment  of  his  nature. 
There  is  nothing  here  of  an  erotic 
character,  such  as  a  more  mundane 
artist  would  doubtless  have  introduced, 
but  rather  a  staid  feeling  is  given  to 
it.  The  youth,  it  is  true,  has  his  arm 
about  the  yoimg  woman's  neck,  but 
we  would  scarcely  suspect  it,  while 
the  gentle  sweetness  and  refinement 
evidenced  in  the  other  female  cannot 
fail  to  impress. 

Murillo  is  styled  by  his  countrymen 
"the  painter  of  Conceptions,"  and 
among  his  many  sacred  and  purely 
devotional  works  this  example  prob- 
ably ranks  first  for  spiritual  beauty. 
The  unconsciously  rapt  expression  of 
the  glorified  Virgin's  face,  its  adora- 
tion, purity,  innocence,  and  youth  ful- 
ness, present  one  of  the  triumphs  of 
the  master's  art.  The  crescent  moon 
on  which  she  stands  as  she  floats  up- 
ward symbolizes  her  chastity  and  pur- 
ity as  well  as  her  youthful  maiden- 
hood. Murillo  got  the  device  from 
Ribera,  by  whom  it  was  first  employed, 
though  it  is  an  idea  probably  borrowed 
from  the  Orientals  through  the  Moors, 
by  whom  Spain  was  dominated.  The 
joys  of  heaven  are  expressed  in  the 
happy  angels  at  her  feet,  while  at  her 
head,  on  each  side,  are  cherubs  and 


THE  SEVENTEENTH-CENTURY  SCHOOL  OH  ANDALUSIA     151 


seraphs.  The  cherubs  arc  on  her  right, 
being  known  from  their  bluish  tinge, 
—turned  from  the  direct  light  they 
assume  this  shade,— while  the  seraphs 
may  be  recognized  as  such  from  their 
fiery  hue,— turned  to  the  yellow  light 
they  receive  it  fully  and  are  delicately 
flushed  with  red.  The  seraphs  stand 
for  love  and  adoration,  the  cherubs 
for  wisdom  and  contemplation.  So 
Pope: 

As  the  rapt  Seraph  that  adores  and  barns, 

and  Milton: 

The  Cherab,  Contemplatioo. 

Angels  are  always  supposed  to  be 
masculine,  perhaps  for  the  reason  beau- 
tifully given  by  Madame  de  Stael— 
"because  the  union  of  power  with 
purity  constitutes  all  that  we  mortals 
can  conceive  of  perfection."  It  is  full 
of  suggestion,  therefore,  that  in  this 
0)nception  we  have  the  Virgin  sur- 
rounded by  the  masculine  element,  and 
bathed  in  a  flood  of  glory  proceeding 
from  the  divine  essence.  The  back- 
ground is  a  mellow  radiance  of  warmth 
and  light,  softening  into  the  cooler 


tints  of  the  clouds  in  which  the  angels 
sport,  holding  various  attributes  of  the 
Virgin.  One  has  a  stem  of  lilies— for 
purity,  and  in  allusion  to  Joseph's  rod, 
which  budded  at  the  time  of  her  be- 
trothal and  sent  forth  lilies.  Another 
holds  a  palm  leaf,  emblem  of  victory. 
A  third  holds  the  rose— for  incorrupt- 
ibility, and  the  "Rose  of  Sharon,"  one 
of  her  many  titles.  A  fourth  bears  the 
olive  branch  of  peace,  borne  by  the 
angel  Gabriel  when  he  announced  to 
her  that  she  should  bear  a  son.  Her 
robe  is  white,  for  virgin  innocence 
and  purity;  and  her  mantle  blue,  for 
truth  and  sorrow :  she  is  the  "Mother 
of  sorrows  and  consolations."  The 
picture  is  a  splendid  piece  of  decora- 
tion; the  golden  background  and  sil- 
ver clouds,  the  rich,  dark  blue  of  the 
Virgin's  mantle  and  her  white  robe 
forming  a  most  telling  combination  of 
simple  and  powerful  values.  It  is 
painted  on  canvas,  and  measures  six 
feet  eight  and  a  half  inches  high  by 
four  feet  eight  and  a  half  inches 
wide,  and  hangs  in  the  long  gallery  of 
the  Prado  Museum  at  Madrid. 

T.C. 


DECLINE  OF  NATIVE  PAINTING 


CHAPTER  IX 

DECLINE   OF   NATIVE    PAINTING 

CHARLES  II 
(1665- 1  700) 

CHARLES  II  was  three  years  old  when  his  father  died,  and  for 
twelve  years,  in  fact  until  he  reached  his  majority,  the  govern- 
ment was  in  the  hands  of  the  queen  dowager,  Mariana.  Her 
mismanagement  was  profound,  her  amours  notorious;  the  govern- 
ment at  home  daily  grev/  more  rotten,  while  abroad  the  French  were 
making  themselves  masters  of  the  Spanish  Netherlands  and  the  buc- 
caneers were  ravaging  the  coasts  of  Spanish  America.  Nor  after 
the  king  had  attained  his  majority  did  aflFairs  mend.  The  last  male 
descendant  of  Giarles  V  inherited  the  taint  of  his  race  in  an  accumu- 
lated form.  Feeble  in  body  and  mind,  he  was  the  victim  of  habitual 
despondency,  from  which  he  sought  relief  in  the  chase,  the  society  of 
his  artists,  and  religious  exercises.  But  his  opportunities  of  patron- 
age were  limited,  for  the  finances  of  Spain  were  crippled.  The 
treasures  of  Mexico  and  Peru  were  mortgaged,  and  the  pressing 
needs  of  the  government  supplied  by  open  sale  of  places.  Scarcely 
could  the  ministers  rai.se  funds  for  the  annual  visits  of  the  court  to 
Aranjuez  and  the  Escorial,  while  officers  of  the  army  begged  in  the 
streets  of  garrison  towns,  and  the  rank  and  file  were  glad  to  share 
the  victuals  doled  out  at  the  monasteries.  The  exchequer,  indeed, 
was  hardly  rich  enough,  as  the  French  ambassador  wrote  to  his  sov- 
ereign, to  pay  for  an  olla  for  the  royal  board. 

•5S 


156  OLD    SPANISH    MASTERS 

Meanwhile,  there  was  no  falling  off  in  the  wealth  of  individual 
nobles,  and,  while  the  menage  of  the  court  was  shabby  and  frugal, 
luxury  increased  in  the  palaces  of  the  grandees.  Their  tables  were 
loaded  ostentatiously  with  gold  and  silver  plate ;  their  ladies  adorned 
with  a  profusion  of  jewels,  and  their  galleries  enriched  with  treas- 
ures of  art.  The  court  might  give  its  cachet  to  a  painter,  but  it  was 
from  the  nobles  that  he  chiefly  drew  emolument. 

By  far  the  most  popular  painter  of  this  period  was  the  Neapoli- 
tan, Luca  Giordano,  a  pupil  of  Ribera.  His  arrival  may  be  said  to 
have  marked  the  end  of  the  old  Spanish  school,  for  chagrin  at  the 
instant  success  of  the  foreigner  caused  the  death  of  Claudio  Coello, 
the  last  of  Spain's  great  painters  of  the  seventeenth  century.  He 
was  born  in  Madrid  between  the  years  1630  and  1640,  the  son  of 
Faustino  Coello,  a  Portuguese  sculptor  in  bronze.  After  obtaining 
some  instruction  in  painting  the  young  Coello  attracted  the  friend- 
ship of  Juan  de  Carrefio,  who,  as  court  painter,  procured  him  permis- 
sion to  study  in  the  royal  galleries.  Later  he  entered  into  partner- 
ship with  a  painter  named  Ximenez  Donoso,  and  superintended  the 
artistic  arrangements  for  the  ceremonial  entry  of  the  French  Prin- 
cess Maria  Louisa,  on  the  occasion  of  her  marriage  to  Charles. 
From  the  palace  of  Buen  Retiro  to  the  Alcazar,  the  way  was  spanned 
by  triumphal  arches,  decorated  with  painted  allegories  and  trophies, 
and  bordered  with  galleries  and  pavilions,  gay  with  gilded  statues 
and  pictures,  emblematic  of  the  Golden  Age  that  was  about  to  return 
to  Spain ! 

In  1684  Coello  was  appointed  one  of  the  court  painters  and  the 
following  year  received  the  commission  for  his  most  important  pic- 
ture, "The  Festival  of  Santa  Forma,"  which  hangs  over  the  altar  in 
the  sacristy  of  the  Escorial.  The  canvas  is  eighteen  feet  high  and 
nine  wide,  set  behind  the  framework  of  the  retablo.  The  subject  of 
the  picture  is  the  ceremony  that  took  place,  when  the  Santa  Forma, 
or  the  Miraculous  Host  that  exuded  blood  when  trodden  on  by 
Zwinglian  soldiers,  was  deposited  on  this  actual  altar.  Conse- 
quently, beyond  the  vista  of  the  sacristy  itself  and  beyond  the  altar 
and  its  retablo,  you  see,  as  in  a  mirror,  a  repetition  of  the  place  itself, 


DECLINE  OF  NATIVE  PAINTING  1 57 

only  crowded  with  monks  and  singing  boys  and  a  company  of  dis- 
tinguished persons.  Of  these  at  least  fifty  are  said  to  be  portraits. 
The  picture  was  received  with  gjeat  applause,  as  well  it  might  be, 
and  for  some  years  Coello  reigned  supreme  among  the  artists  of  the 
court  and  capital.  It  was  during  this  period  that  many  of  his  best 
portraits  were  executed.  In  1692,  however,  Luca  Giordano  arrived 
and  was  given  a  commission  to  paint  the  dome  of  the  Escorial, 
Coello's  mortification  was  intense ;  only  after  urgent  entreaty  would 
he  finish  a  "Martyrdom  of  St.  Stephen,"  on  which  he  was  engaged, 
and  after  its  completion  flung  away  his  brushes  forever.  Elarly  in 
the  following  year  he  died  of  some  disease,  brought  on  or  aggravated 
by  his  disappointment.  With  him,  as  we  have  said,  may  be  consid- 
ered to  have  passed  away  the  great  Spanish  school  of  the  seventeenth 
century. 


THE  BOURBON  DYNASTY 


CHAPTER  X 

THE  BOURBON  DYNASTY 

FRANCISCO  GOYA 

WITH  the  death  of  Charles  II  the  rule  of  the  Hapsburg 
House  of  Austria  came  to  an  end.  In  the  person  of  Philip 
V,  grandson  of  Philip  IV  and  Louis  XIV,  the  offspring  of 
the  marriage  that  took  place  on  the  Isle  of  Pheasants  and  cost  Ve- 
lasquez his  life,  the  crown  passed  to  the  Bourbon  dynasty.  With 
two  short  interruptions,  one  when  Napoleon  placed  his  brother 
Joseph  on  the  throne,  and  the  other  when  the  brief  reig^  of  Victor 
Emmanuel's  son,  Amadeus,  was  followed  by  a  still  briefer  republic, 
that  dynasty  has  lasted  to  the  present  day. 

Philip's  accession,  in  direct  contravention  of  the  agreement  made 
by  Louis  XIV  to  abjure  for  himself  and  successors  all  claim  to  the 
Spanish  throne,  led  to  the  War  of  the  Spanish  Succession.  During 
the  twelve  years  of  that  disastrous  conflict  the  convents  and  cathe- 
drals were  despoiled  of  much  of  their  painting,  sculpture,  and  plate, 
and  the  miserable  years  that  lost  Gibraltar  to  Spain  completed  the 
ruin  of  her  commerce,  and  dried  up  the  fountain  of  her  national 
genius.  No  new  painter  of  note  appeared  to  carry  on  the  succession 
of  native  art,  and  the  king,  while  retaining  the  services  of  Luca 
Giordano  and  a  few  insignificant  Spanish  painters,  showed  his 
French  preferences  by  sending  for  Vanloo.  Later  in  the  century 
Luca  Giordano  was  followed  by  the  Venetian  Tiepolo,  and  by  the 

l6l 


l62  OLD    SPANISH    MASTERS 

German  eclectic,  Raphael  Mengs.  Such  Spanish  painters  as  existed 
side  by  side  with  these  do  not  call  for  comment.  Native  art  was  to 
all  intents  and  purposes  dead;  when,  suddenly,  the  last  quarter  of 
the  century  witnessed  a  revival  of  Spanish  painting  in  the  person  of 
Francisco  Goya. 

This  strangely  bizarre  and  forceful  personality  was,  like  all  the 
true  artists  of  Spain,  a  naturalist,  happiest  in  depicting  the  passing 
show  of  contemporary  life,  but  gifted  with  something  of  the  spirit 
of  Cervantes  and  Lope  de  Vega,  a  prober  of  shams  and  a  ruthless 
expositor  of  the  vices  of  the  times.  And,  while  thus  an  embodiment 
of  Spanish  past  and  present,  he  has  been  also  called  the  first  of  mod- 
ern painters,  since  he  anticipated  the  motive  and  manner  of  modern 
impressionism. 

He  was  born  in  1746,  of  humble  parentage,  in  the  village  of 
Fuente  de  Todos,  near  Zaragoza,  in  the  province  of  Aragon.  His 
childhood,  little  disturbed  by  schooling,  was  spent  in  running  wild 
over  the  bare  hills  that  in  summer  are  parched  with  heat  and  in  win- 
ter swept  with  cold,  and  under  these  conditions  Goya  early  developed 
the  passionate  independence  and  reckless  disregard  of  consequences 
that  characterized  his  subsequent  career.  By  the  time  that  he  was 
thirteen  he  had  made  up  his  mind  to  be  a  painter,  and  was  placed  with 
a  teacher  in  Zaragoza.  For  some  five  years  he  frequented  the  lat- 
ter's  studio,  but  the  discipline  of  steady  work  was  alien  to  his  dispo- 
sition. From  first  to  last  during  his  student  days  he  was  a  quick 
assimilator  of  what  a  master  or  masterpiece  could  give  him,  with  an 
instinct  for  what  was  needful  for  his  own  development  and  a  disre- 
gard of  aught  else.  In  later  life  he  used  to  say  that  his  instruction 
had  been  gained  from  nature,  Velasquez,  and  Rembrandt. 

Meanwhile,  at  Zaragoza  he  was  following  the  call  of  his  instinct 
by  touching  life  at  various  points,  especially  lawless  ones.  Of  great 
physical  strength,  quick  and  apt  with  the  rapier,  he  was  a  leader 
among  the  swashbuckling  youth  of  the  city,  until  the  eye  of  the  In- 
quisition was  attracted  to  his  escapades  and  he  found  it  convenient 
to  skip  to  Madrid.  Here  he  divided  his  time  between  study  in  the 
galleries,  and  adventures  of  gallantry,  until  he  was  picked  up  one 


THE  BOURBON  DYNASTY  163 

morning  with  a  knife  in  his  back.  Once  more  to  escape  the  clutches 
of  the  Inquisition,  he  lay  concealed  until  his  wound  was  healed,  and 
then  worked  his  way  south  as  a  bull-fighter  and  sailed  for  Italy. 
During  his  stay  in  Rome  he  became  intimate  with  the  Spanish 
painter,  Francisco  Bayeu,  and  fraternized  with  David,  the  future 
leader  of  the  academic  school  in  France,  who  was  already  imbued 
with  the  republican  spirit.  At  this  time  Goya's  reputation  as  a 
painter  was  such,  that  the  Russian  ambassador  offered  him  a  posi- 
tion at  the  court  of  Catharine  II,  an  honor  which  he  declined.  Nor 
did  his  reputation  for  amorous  adventures  suffer  any  abatement 
The  last  of  them  in  Rome  was  an  attempt  to  carry  off  a  girl  from  a 
convent.  It  failed  and  he  found  himself  in  the  hands  of  the  monks, 
from  whom  he  was  rescued  with  difficulty  by  the  Spanish  ambassa- 
dor. He  now  left  Rome  and  returned  to  Spain,  settling  in  Madrid, 
where  in  a  few  months  he  married  Josefa  Bayeu,  the  sister  of  his 
painter  friend,  Francisco. 

Through  the  introduction  of  his  brother-in-law,  Goya  was 
brought  to  the  notice  of  Mengs,  who,  with  a  corps  of  painters,  was 
occupied  in  decorating  the  palaces  of  Madrid  and  Aranjuez.  He 
received  a  commission  to  design  a  set  of  cartoons  for  the  royal  fac- 
tory of  Santa  Barbara,  in  which  he  at  once  declared  his  independence 
by  selecting  subjects  as  far  as  possible  removed  from  the  kind  af- 
fected by  Mengs.  Instead  of  a  tedious  rehash  of  some  time-worn 
theme  of  mythology,  these  thirty-eight  compositions,  executed  in 
some  eighteen  months,  are  alive  with  incidents  drawn  from  the 
habits  and  pastimes  of  the  people.  Some  of  them,  with  much  of 
Watteau's  grace,  represent  a  picnic,  a  fete  champetre,  young  people 
flying  a  kite,  playing  tennis  or  blindman's-bluff ;  others,  a  wedding, 
the  evening  promenade  in  the  Prado,  the  Madrid  fair,  or  the  episode 
of  a  rendezvous;  while  in  others  appear  such  well-known  personages 
as  flower-sellers,  washerwomen,  beggars,  gamblers,  tipplers,  hunts- 
men and  their  hounds,  guitar-players,  manikins,  and  stilt-walkers. 
There  was  so  much  esprit  in  the  invention  of  these  designs  and  their 
spirit  reflected  so  precisely  the  temper  of  the  time,  that  at  the  age  of 
twenty  Goya  found  himself  famous.    He  clinched  his  success  by  pro- 


164  OLD    SPANISH    MASTERS 

ducing  a  variety  of  pictures  representing  subjects  so  akin  to  the 
national  experience  as  bull-fights,  processions,  masquerades,  high- 
way robberies,  and  scenes  of  gallantry.  The  drawing  was  occasion- 
ally faulty,  but  the  color  luminous  and  silvery,  while  the  whole 
impression  was  alert  with  vitality  and  the  brushwork  fascinating  in 
its  ease  of  manner. 

About  this  time  he  began  practising  with  the  etching  needle, 
executing  some  prints  after  pictures  by  Velasquez;  was  elected  to 
membership  in  the  Academy  of  San  Fernando,  and  accepted  a  com- 
mission to  furnish  some  sacred  paintings  for  the  Church  of  the  Vir- 
gin del  Pilar.  In  these  the  subject  of  the  "Virgin  and  Martyred 
Saints  in  Glory"  are  treated  with  skill  of  composition  and  decorative 
originality,  but  with  a  complete  absence  of  devotional  feeling.  Nor 
was  this  to  be  wondered  at,  for  Goya  was  a  professed  unbeliever, 
who  made  no  secret  of  his  mental  attitude  toward  religion,  and  was 
entirely  lacking  in  that  sympathetic  quality  of  imagination  which 
could  lend  itself  for  the  time  being  to  the  point  of  view  of  other 
minds.  This,  however,  does  not  seem  to  have  deterred  the  Church 
from  employing  him,  for  by  the  time  that  he  had  made  his  success  at 
court,  he  was  equally  in  demand  for  ecclesiastical  decorations.  These 
he  executed  for  churches  in  Seville,  Toledo,  Zaragoza,  and  Valencia, 
and  for  the  little  Church  of  San  Antonio  de  la  Florida,  in  the  out- 
skirts of  Madrid.  Here  on  the  ceiling  of  the  cupola  he  depicted  a 
miracle  ascribed  to  St.  Anthony  of  Padua.  The  latter's  father  had 
been  suspected  of  a  murder,  and  to  clear  him  the  saint  was  said  to 
have  brought  the  victim  to  life  that  he  might  declare  the  real  culprit. 
How  such  a  theme  would  strike  Goya's  grim  humor  may  be  gathered 
from  one  of  his  later  etchings,  which  represents  a  corpse  half-buried 
in  the  ground,  lifting  itself  upon  its  elbow  and  writing  with  finger 
upon  a  piece  of  paper  "Nada"— nothing !  As  a  matter  of  fact  he  saw 
in  the  miracle  of  St.  Anthony  an  opportunity  for  a  gay  and  brilliant 
bouquet  of  color  and  movement.  Some  dramatic  import  is  given  to 
the  group  in  which  the  saint  and  murdered  man  appear,  but  the  rest 
of  the  circle  merely  represents  a  skilful  arrangement  of  figures, 
brightly  dressed,  in  various  attitudes  of  animation.    "As  a  colorist," 


t     c      «     «  /*    < 
tc       c     <  <  i    t 


THE  WASHERWOMEN.     BV  GOYA. 


MADRID   MUSEUM. 


THE  BOURBON  DYNASTY  165 

writes  Charles  Yriarte,  "Goya  never  attained  a  greater  height  than 
in  these  frescos,  which  in  imaginative  quaHties,  in  life  and  spirit, 
and  in  ingenuity  of  arrangement,  are  among  his  most  characteristic 
works.  From  a  humble  sanctuary  he  has  changed  the  building— I 
was  about  to  say  into  a  temple,  but  I  should  rather  say  into  a  mu- 
seum, for  it  must  be  acknowledged  that  Goya's  paintings  are  abso- 
lutely devoid  of  religious  feeling,  of  solemnity,  or  of  asceticism." 

And  why  not?  For,  at  the  time  he  executed  them,  he  was  the 
idol  of  a  court  that  was  probably  the  most  squalidly  dissolute  in 
Europe.  Charles  IV  had  succeeded  to  the  throne,  but  real  power 
was  in  the  hands  of  Manuel  Godoy,  who,  through  the  notorious  par- 
tiality of  the  queen,  Maria  Louisa,  had  been  advanced  from  obscur- 
ity by  rapid  steps  of  promotion  to  the  role  of  prime  minister. 

Characteristic  of  this  creature,  and  at  the  same  time  of  the  imbe- 
cility of  the  king  and  the  conditions  of  the  court,  is  the  brutally  auda- 
cious remark  attributed  to  him  in  Doblado's  Letters.  Charles,  it 
seems,  was  standing  at  one  of  the  windows  of  the  palace,  surrounded 
by  his  courtiers,  when  a  hand.some  equipage  passed  below  in  the 
street.  It  was  driven  by  one,  Mello,  late  a  private  in  the  guards,  now 
reigning  favorite  with  the  queen.  "I  wonder,"  said  the  king,  "how 
the  fellow  can  aflford  to  keep  better  horses  than  I  can."  "The  scan- 
dal goes,  sir,"  replied  Godoy,  "that  he  is  himself  kept  by  an  ugly  old 
woman  whose  name  I  have  forgotten."  The  "ugly  old  woman"  was 
pictured  by  Goya  on  horseback,  and  her  coarse  face,  "red  with  rouge 
or  rum,"  justifies  the  severity  of  Godoy 's  jest. 

In  such  a  court,  steeped  through  and  through  with  intrigue, 
Goya  was  a  notable  figure.  His  own  gallantries  were  as  dashing 
and  brilliant  as  his  brushwork;  his  charm  of  person  exercised  a 
fascination ;  his  wit  amused,  and  his  prowess  as  a  swordsman  made 
him  feared.  Moreover,  he  had  at  his  back  the  populace  of  Madrid, 
to  whom  his  gjeat  physical  strength  and  skill  in  encounters  of  offense 
and  defense  had  endeared  him.  It  is  recorded  that  professional 
swordsmen,  giving  a  public  exhibition  of  their  art  in  the  streets, 
would  stop  at  his  approach  and  hand  him  a  weapon,  that  the  specta- 
tors might  enjoy  a  taste  of  his  quality.    And  his  effrontery  was  equal 


1 66  OLD    SPANISH    MASTERS 

to  his  courage.  A  story  is  told  that  on  one  occasion,  when  the  court 
was  in  mourning,  he  made  his  appearance  in  white  socks,  and  was 
barred  from  entrance  by  the  ushers.  Retiring  to  an  anteroom,  he 
procured  some  ink  and  decorated  the  socks  with  portraits  of  some  of 
the  courtiers,  to  the  great  amusement  of  the  king,  queen,  and  every- 
body, except  the  persons  caricatured.  He  was  made  much  of  by  the 
great  ladies,  especially  by  the  powerful  Countess  of  Benevente,  who 
loaded  him  with  favors  and  commissions.  But  the  particular  object 
of  his  own  admiration  was  the  beautiful  young  Duchess  of  Alba, 
who,  thereby  incurring  the  animosity  of  the  countess,  was  banished 
from  court.  Goya  immediately  obtained  leave  of  absence,  and  es- 
corted his  inamorata  to  her  residence  at  San  Lucar.  During  the 
journey  the  axle-iron  broke,  and  the  artist,  in  default  of  a  black- 
smith, lit  a  fire  and  mended  it.  In  the  process,  however,  he  caught  a 
chill,  which  brought  on  the  first  symptoms  of  deafness  that  in  the 
course  of  time  deprived  him  entirely  of  his  hearing.  Meanwhile,  the 
court  was  dull  without  their  favorite  painter.  He  was  summoned 
back  from  his  voluntary  exile,  pleaded  the  cause  of  his  duchess,  and 
secured  her  recall. 

His  audacity  now  began  to  declare  itself  in  an  artistic  direction. 
It  was  about  1799  when  Goya,  who  had  been  for  some  years  director 
of  the  Academy  of  San  Fernando  and  was  now  first  painter  to  the 
king,  commenced  that  remarkable  series  of  etchings  subsequently 
published  under  the  title  of  "Los  Caprichos."  The  satire  of  these 
"caprices,"  directed  against  political,  aristocratic,  religious,  and 
social  conditions,  was  unprecedented  in  the  history  of  art.  They 
represent  an  amazing  record  of  mordant  hatred,  horribly  grotesque 
imagination,  and  merciless  ridicule.  Small  wonder  that  the  Inquisi- 
tion was  stirred  and  demanded  his  trial.  But  he  escaped  by  a  subter- 
fuge. According  to  one  story,  Goya  parried  the  blow  by  dedicating 
the  plates  to  the  king,  while  another  has  it  that  the  king  himself 
extricated  the  favorite  by  sending  for  the  plates  which  he  had  com- 
manded. 

This  series  of  etchings  was  silcceeded  by  another  known  as  "Los 
Desastres  de  la  Guerra,"  in  which  he  depicted  with  less  originality 


THE  BOUKBON  DYNASTY  167 

than  before  but  with  startling  reaHsm  the  horrors  of  war,  during  the 
French  invasion  by  which  Napoleon  tried  to  keep  his  brother  Josepli 
on  the  Spanish  throne.  These  again  were  followed  by  "La  Tauro- 
maquia,"  a  set  illustrating  episodes  of  the  bull-ring,  and  by  "Los 
Proverbios."  In  all  these  plates  the  background  was  executed  in 
aquatint,  upon  which  the  figures  were  etched  with  light  and  rapid 
strokes  full  of  verve  and  meaning,  while  the  groups  are  put  together 
with  an  ease  of  manner  and  a  justness  of  ensemble  that  seem  to  be 
the  result  of  an  act  of  improvisation. 

The  subject-matter  of  the  etchings  has  led  some  writers  to  couple 
Goya  with  Hogarth.  But  the  latter  was  a  moralist,  of  which  there 
is  no  trace  in  Goya.  It  was  out  of  the  ferment  of  a  passionate  nature 
that  he  produced  these  things,  not  for  public  edification,  but  for  his 
own  amusement;  sometimes,  no  doubt,  to  vent  an  ancient  grudge, 
more  often,  however,  in  the  indulgence  of  a  grim  humor  and  in 
response  to  an  inherent  love  of  the  horrible,  that  is  characteristically 
Spanish.  For  in  innumerable  pictures  the  blood-lust  of  the  race, 
inherited,  it  has  been  surmised,  by  the  protracted  struggle  with  the 
Moor,  obtruded  itself.  Under  the  thin  g^ise  of  a  sacred  subject,  the 
tortures  of  martyrs  and  the  torments  of  the  damned  feed  the  same 
appetite  that  used  to  be  satiated  with  the  atrocities  of  the  auto  da  fe, 
and  now  finds  a  pleasurable  excitement  in  the  carnage  of  the  bull- 
ring. Yet  it  is  possible  to  see  in  Goya  a  symptom  of  the  spirit  of 
revolt  against  existing  institutions  which  was  permeating  Europe 
and  had  just  broken  loose  in  the  violence  of  the  French  Revolution. 
In  a  country  the  most  conservative  in  Europe,  and  under  the  shadow 
of  the  Inquisition,  which  still  maintained  an  almost  medieval  con- 
straint over  men's  consciences  and  conduct,  he  dared  to  be  an  anarch 
of  the  pronounced  type. 

During  the  days  of  his  prosperity  at  the  court  of  Charles  IV  it 
was  de  rdgle  to  be  painted  by  Goya,  and  his  studio  was  besieged  by 
people  of  the  g^reat  world,  statesmen,  scholars,  court  ladies,  and 
famous  beauties.  As  a  result  his  portraits  are  very  unequal  in  qual- 
ity. If  the  subject  attracted  him,  he  could  produce  a  portrait  as 
beautiful  as  that  of  the  Andalusian  wife  of  Don  Antonio  Corbo  de 


1 68  OLD    SPANISH    MASTERS 

Porcel,  or  as  full  of  dignified  reserve  as  that  of  his  brother-in-law, 
the  painter  Bayeu.  On  the  other  hand,  in  the  presence  of  a  group 
like  that  of  the  family  of  Charles  IV,  imagination  fails  him,  and  the 
best  he  can  accomplish  is  a  clever  but  perfunctory  rendering  of  the 
mediocrity  of  his  subject.  Other  portraits  betray  the  hurry  in  w^hich 
they  w^ere  executed,  the  result  sometimes  of  indifference,  on  other 
occasions  of  the  fury  M^ith  which  he  was  wont  to  attack  his  canvas. 

His  subject  pictures  also  vary  in  character.  Sometimes  with 
amazing  impetuosity  he  dashed  on  to  the  canvas  the  impression  of 
an  incident  remembered,  sweeping  it  in  with  large  strokes  of  the 
brush  and  with  a  seeming  carelessness  that  gives  the  appearance  of 
the  scene  having  been  rapidly  sketched  on  the  spot.  Such  are  two 
vivid  scenes  of  slaughter  suggested  by  the  French  invasion,  and 
others  representing  brigands,  bull-fights,  assassinations,  and  victims 
of  the  plague.  But  his  subjects  were  not  always  violent,  as  witness 
the  sparkling  grace  of  "In  a  Balcony" ;  nor  was  his  method  always 
summary.  The  companion  pictures  in  the  Prado  of  "La  Maja," 
representing  the  same  girl  in  the  same  pose,  clothed  in  one  case,  in 
the  other  nude,  reveal  the  most  attentive  observation  and  treatment ; 
a  sensitive  devotion  to  the  harmonious  lines  of  the  young  body,  and 
an  exquisite  feeling  for  the  texture  and  tones  of  the  flesh. 

The  latter  part  of  the  artist's  life  was  disturbed  by  the  political 
changes  that  overtook  Spain  and  by  his  own  infirmities.  Charles  IV 
and  his  wife  were  exiles  in  France  and  during  the  brief  usurpation 
of  Joseph  Bonaparte,  Goya,  like  most  of  the  courtiers,  swore  alle- 
giance to  him.  Upon  the  return  of  Ferdinand  in  1814,  he  again 
changed  his  political  coat.  "In  our  absence,"  the  new  king  re- 
marked, "you  have  deserved  exile,  and  more  than  exile,  you  have 
deserved  hanging,  but  you  are  a  great  painter  and,  therefore,  we 
will  forget  everything."  But  though  he  painted  this  Ferdinand 
several  times,  these  portraits  being  among  his  best,  and  still  held  the 
position  of  first  painter  to  the  king,  he  had  outlived  his  popularity  at 
court,  and  spent  most  of  his  time  at  his  beautiful  residence  of  Las 
Romerias,  whose  walls  he  had  decorated  in  his  earlier  days  of  buoy- 
ancy with  grotesque  pictures.     Now  he  was  nearly  seventy  years 


•  •  •      •  •    • 


l\   THE  BAUONV."     BV  COVA. 
iHK  <.>>iLr.cri<>v  or  TMi  piK*  or  mabcmika,  rAUS. 


•;  r^  -^'t' 


«•  «     <   •• 


THE  BOURBON  DYNASTY  169 

old;  the  wife  who  had  borne  so  patiently  with  all  his  flagrant  infi- 
delities was  dead;  so  too  were  all  but  one  of  his  twenty  children. 
His  faculties  were  decaying;  periods  of  moroseness  would  alternate 
with  flashes  of  ungovernable  rage ;  his  hand  no  longer  moved  with 
rapidity  and  lightness ;  and  his  color  had  lost  much  of  its  limpidity. 

At  length,  retiring  to  his  own  country,  he  obtained  permission  to 
visit  France  and  settled  in  Bordeaux,  where  he  was  tended  during 
the  last  five  years  of  his  life  by  an  old  friend,  Madam  Weiss,  and  her 
daughter.  A  few  portraits,  among  them  some  miniatures,  and  four 
lithographs  known  as  "Les  Taureaux  de  Bordeaux,"  belong  to  this 
period;  but  as  the  end  approached  he  sank  deeper  into  depression. 
Stone  deaf,  and  with  failing  eyesight,  he  would  pass  whole  days 
without  speaking.  In  the  spring  of  1828,  recognizing  that  the  end 
was  near,  he  sent  for  his  son,  and  a  few  days  after  his  arrival  suc- 
cumbed to  a  stroke  of  apoplexy.  He  was  buried  in  the  cemetery  of 
Bordeaux;  but  his  remains  were  exhumed  in  1899  and  reinterred 
with  suitable  honors  in  Madrid. 

In  the  period  of  his  ascendency  Goya  was  nearly  a  hundred  years 
in  advance  of  his  age.  While  his  contemporaries  in  Spain  and 
France,  following  the  lead,  respectively,  of  Mengs  and  David,  were 
intent  upon  line  and  enclosed  their  figures  with  hard  contours,  he, 
as  he  was  wont  to  say,  only  saw  in  nature  objects  in  light  and  objects 
in  shadow,  according  as  they  approach  or  recede  from  the  eye.  "I 
do  not  count  the  hairs  in  the  beard  of  a  man  who  passes  by,"  he 
would  say,  "and  my  brush  cannot  see  more  than  I."  And  again, 
"Teachers  confuse  their  young  pupils  by  making  them  draw  year 
after  year  with  their  best  sharpened  pencil  almond-shaped  eyes, 
mouths  like  bows,  noses  like  the  figure  seven  reversed,  and  oval 
heads.  Why  not  give  them  nature  for  a  model?  That  is  the  only 
master."  This  is  very  much  what  Delacroix  urged  in  his  fight 
against  arbitrary  notions  of  beauty,  founded  upon  the  study  of 
Greek  sculpture.  "In  order  to  present  an  ideal  head  of  a  neg^o,  our 
teachers  make  him  resemble  as  far  as  possible  the  profile  of  Anti- 
nous,  and  then  say,  We  have  done  our  utmost ;  if,  nevertheless,  we 
fail  to  make  the  negro  beautiful,  then  we  ought  not  to  introduce  into 


lyO  OLD  SPANISH  MASTERS 

our  pictures  such  a  freak  of  nature,  the  squat  nose  and  thick  Hps, 
which  are  so  unendurable  to  the  eyes." 

Delacroix  visited  Spain  and  must  have  made  acquaintance  with 
Goya's  work.  Certainly  many  of  the  leading  French  critics  were 
familiar  with  it,  and  had  derived  from  it  reinforcement  for  the  at- 
tack which  on  behalf  of  romanticism  they  were  leading  against  the 
academy.  Their  battle  was  probably  the  fiercest  ever  waged  in  the 
arena  of  art,  and  the  battle-cry  of  the  young  men  was  directed 
against  arbitrary  conventions;  in  favor  of  conforming  to  nature 
rather  than  to  rules,  and  of  substituting  for  the  tame  formality  of 
academic  motives  an  expression  of  the  flesh  and  blood  and  emotions 
of  the  human  body  and  spirit,  and  it  is  in  this  respect  that  Goya  was 
the  precursor  of  the  movement.  That  outburst  of  individual  liberty 
of  spirit,  which  in  France  did  not  reveal  itself  as  the  artistic  product 
of  the  Revolution  until  1830,  had  appeared  in  Spain  fifty  years  be- 
fore in  the  person  of  Goya.  His  career,  therefore,  passes  beyond  the 
interest  that  attaches  to  the  individual  and  his  particular  locality, 
and  is  seen  to  have  been  symptomatic  of  the  age.  He  is  one  with 
Goethe,  Schiller,  and  Byron,  as  well  as  with  the  French  Revolution 
and  the  Romanticists. 

But  his  genius  also  anticipated  a  still  later  movement  in  painting 
— that  of  impressionism.  Himself  a  follower  of  Velasquez,  as  mod- 
ern painters  have  since  become,  he  brought  the  lesson  of  Velasquez 
up  to  the  point  where  it  could  serve  his  present  purpose  and,  by 
anticipation,  the  purpose  of  the  moderns.  To  use  a  mathematical 
formula,  Goya's  impressionism  was  Velasquez's  impressionism, 
raised  to  the  nth  power,  "n"  representing  the  infinite  variations  of 
human  life.  For  while  the  older  artist,  instead  of  giving  a  detailed 
record  of  the  object  before  him,  rendered  the  impression  that  it  had 
made  on  his  eye,  his  practice,  if  not  his  experience,  was  limited  in 
scope.  How  far  his  impressionism  would  have  been  modified  or 
extended,  had  he  ruffled  it  in  the  outside  world,  as  Goya  did,  can  be 
only  a  matter  of  conjecture.  As  a  fact,  he  was  confined  to  a  certain 
range  of  subjects,  demanding  a  certain  manner  of  being  seen  and 
rendered.    Goya,  on  the  contrary,  acknowledged  no  master,  even  in 


THE  BOURBON  DYNASTY  I7I 

the  royalties  that  he  served ;  extended  his  researches  over  the  whole 
panorama  of  external  life,  and  represented  what  he  had  seen  accord- 
ing to  the  sole  dictates  of  his  own  temperament.  For  it  is  in  the 
way  in  which  his  art  was  swayed  by  temperament  that  he  belonged 
to  the  modems. 

Velasquez's  impressionism,  in  its  primary  intent,  at  any  rate, 
was  objective.  However  it  may,  and  must,  have  been  modified  by 
his  personal  memory  and  experience,  it  represented  a  conscious  ef- 
fort to  summarize  the  qualities  as  they  actually  existed  in  his  sub- 
ject. Goya,  on  the  contrary,  painted,  in  our  modern  phrase,  to  please 
himself,  influenced  in  what  he  saw  by  his  mood  of  the  moment, 
emphasizing  and  suppressing  this  or  that  according  to  the  condition 
of  his  feelings;  intent,  less  upon  giving  a  truthful  synthesis  of  the 
qualities  of  the  subject,  than  of  showing  how  they  affected  himself. 
In  this  lies  both  his  strength  and  weakness.  When  a  subject  ac- 
corded with  his  mood,  and  his  creativeness  was  alert  and  interested, 
he  could  produce  a  marvelously  vivid  impression  of  the  scene ;  when 
the  one  was  out  of  key,  or  the  other  lagged,  the  work  would  be  of 
correspondingly  indifferent  quality.  Just  the  same  distinction  is 
api>arent  in  the  case  of  the  modern  impressionists.  Their  success 
depends  upon  a  coordination  of  "ifs,"  that  is  not  by  any  means  in- 
variably present. 

Moreover,  this  subjective,  temperamental  kind  of  impressionism 
is  in  a  measure  antagonistic  to  the  avowal  that  these  painters  make 
of  being  nature-students.  They  go  to  nature,  it  is  true ;  but  too  often 
only  for  a  suggestion,  after  which  they  turn  their  back  on  their 
teacher,  as  being  inadequate,  and  busy  themselves  with  an  exposure 
of  their  own  feelings.  Here  and  there  in  certain  men,  but  even  of 
these,  as  we  see  in  the  case  of  Goya,  only  at  certain  times,  there  is 
enough  of  genius,  that  is  to  say,  of  originality  of  comprehension  and 
feeling,  to  give  the  expression  of  their  personal  impression  a  distinct 
and  abundant  value.  Nature,  passed  through  the  alembic  of  that 
genius,  reappears  with  a  heightened  significance.  But  what,  when 
nature  that  means  already  to  most  of  us  so  much  emerges  from  the 
pot  of  a  mediocre  brain?    And  painters  are  but  as  other  human 


172  OLD  SPANISH  MASTERS 

beings ;  only  a  few  of  them  rise  above  the  average.  I  do  not  forget 
that  mollern  impressionism  is  not  necessarily  temperamental.  But 
mo^t  of  it  is,  and  this  form  of  it  has  spread  to  music  and  to  literature 
and  crops  out  crudely  even  in  our  daily  papers. 

The  Spain  which  Goya  pictured  and  satirized  has  passed  away. 
It  was  a  civilization  that  had  its  roots  still  established  in  tradition, 
gallant  and  barbarous  by  turns,  and  Goya,  in  mirroring  it,  was  one 
with  the  painters  of  the  past.  He  was  the  last  of  the  Spanish  school ; 
the  first  in  the  later  republic  of  art  which,  now  spread  over  the 
western  countries,  may  present  local  variations  but  no  distinctions 
of  schools. 

During  Goya's  life  occurred  the  Peninsular  War,  in  which  the 
French  army  supplemented  the  devastation  that  had  been  wrought 
by  the  archduke's  soldiers  in  the  early  part  of  the  century.  But  the 
pillage  on  this  occasion  passed  beyond  the  wanton  damage  of  reck- 
less soldiery,  and  the  rifling  of  altars  and  sacristies  in  search  of  the 
precious  metals.  For  Marshal  Soult,  with  the  instincts  of  a  shrewd 
dealer,  sent  ahead  of  his  advance  an  expert,  with  the  dictionary  of 
Cean  Bermudez  in  his  hand,  to  identify  and  attach  the  most  famous 
paintings,  which  he  compelled  the  churches  and  convents  to  sell  him 
on  his  own  terms.  Thus  a  vast  number  of  masterpieces,  notwith- 
standing that  the  allies  compelled  the  return  of  some  of  them,  were 
lost  to  Spain  and  passed  through  Soult's  rapacious  hands  into  the 
public  and  private  galleries  of  Europe. 


NOTES  BY  THE  ENGRAVER 

GOYA'S    "Washerwomen"   is   one  at  Madrid,  about  1776,  when  the  ar- 

of  a  series  of  decorative  paint-  tist  was  thirty  years  old.     They  are 

ings  of  scenes  from  Spanish  life  de-  collected  at  the  Madrid  gallery,  in  the 

signed  originally  to  serve  as  models  lower  halls  dedicated  to  Goya's  works, 

for  tapestries,  and  executed  by  Goya  while  the  tapestries  made  from  them 

for  the  royal  manufactory  of  tapestry  decorate  the  walls  of  the  escorial  pal- 


:*•: 


DOSA  ISABKl.  ajiau'   I'l.   li'i.tl.l. 

KATIOKAL  GALLMHV,   U>MJU\. 


i;v  1,1  )V  A. 


.       C       V      C /«      , 

t  ^     t-    ■  <  •  , 

10  t      «        ' 


THE  BOURBON  DYNASTY 


173 


ace,  in  the  mountains  to  the  north  of 
the  city. 

The  painting  of  these  cartoons  was 
procured  for  Goya  by  Raphael  Mcngs, 
the  director  of  the  manufactory,  and 
painter  to  the  king,  Carlos  IV,  who 
was  attracted  by  the  originality  and 
power  of  the  young  man,  then  just  re- 
turned from  his  studies  in  Rome. 
This  work  was  the  first  step  in  the 
artist's  upward  career,  since  it  was  an 
immense  success,  and  he  soon  became 
the  most  popular  painter  in  the  city. 

The  figures  of  these  canvases  are  all 
life-size.  While  a  few  of  the  cartoons 
possess  great  charm  and  brilliancy  of 
tone,  the  majority  are  harsh  and  crude 
in  cok)ring.  owing  possibly  to  the  com- 
mercialism of  the  time,  which  may 
have  demanded  something  gay  and 
catching.  Certain  it  is  that  in  black 
and  white  they  have  greater  dignity 
and  simplicity.  Knowing  them  only 
from  reproductions  in  this  medium,  I 
could  not  help  marveling,  on  seeing 
the  originals,  that  the  artist  should 
have  spoiled  the  nobility  and  repose  of 
his  works  by  staining  them  with  hard 
and  spotty  colors.  Their  unnaturally 
bright  hues  arc  accounted  for  by  the 
fact  that  they  were  done  for  copying 
in  tapestry,  as  tliough  it  were  the  na- 
ture of  the  texture  of  tapestry  to 
soften  them.  But  in  fact  the  repro- 
ductions, instead  of  ameliorating  the 
tints  of  the  originals,  have  accentuated 
their  defects,  and  this  so  deplorably 
that  they  present  a  garish  spectacle  of 
pigments,  ill  suited  to  the  quiet,  un- 
obtrusive flatness  so  becoming  to  the 
walls  of  an  interior. 

Nevertheless,  these  representations 
of  the  gay  aspect  of  Spanish  life  un- 
doubtedly reveal  Goya's  mind  in  its 
happiest  and  healthiest  phase.  The 
light  and  playful  incidents  of  every- 
day existence  are  vividly  depicted  with 


a  vigor  and  virility  ef  drawing  that  is 
wanting  in  much  of  his  later  work, 
especially  of  that  period  of  gloom 
that  settled  over  his  declining  years. 

In  the  example  of  the  "Washer- 
women," one  of  the  best  of  the  series, 
the  two  maids  seated  are  playing  a 
practical  joke  on  their  dozing  com- 
panion. One  has  led  a  sheep  up  from 
behind  and  is  pulling  its  ear  in  order 
to  rub  its  nose  against  her  face  and 
make  it  bleat  in  her  ear  and  thus  to 
scare  her  into  waking. 

In  the  Madrid  gallery  may  be  seen 
the  sad  contrast  between  the  artist's 
early  and  late  productions.  To  turn 
from  these  cheerful  scenes  of  frolic- 
some mirth— country  dances,  love  epi- 
sodes, picnics,  games,  and  escapades, 
set  in  gay  colors  and  brilliant  tones— 
to  the  black  and  gruesome  horrors  of 
his  later  canvases,  is  like  stepping 
from  the  joyous  sunlight  into  gloom: 
all  color  is  fled,  and  chaos  reigns, 
peopled  with  hideous  and  unearthly 
shapes.  One  feels  instinctively  that 
the  man  must  have  gone  mad. 

The  Portrait  of  Doiia  Isabel  Cor- 
l)o  de  Pored  was  purchased  by  the 
National  Gallery  of  London  in  1896 
from  Don  Andres  de  Urzaiz,  of  Ma- 
drid. As  an  example  of  the  artist's 
power  in  portraiture  it  is  one  of  the 
best,  displaying  delicacy  of  execution 
and  vivid  delineation  of  character. 

We  here  have  a  handsome  young 
Spanish  lady,  of  a  type  that  must  have 
enlisted  the  painter's  sympathy.  She 
is  clad  in  a  rose-colored  satin  dress, 
which  is  almost  entirely  veiled  by  a 
black  lace  mantilla,  of  a  style  worn  by 
ladies  of  Spain  at  the  present  day, 
forming  a  rich  head-dress  and  for- 
cibly setting  off  the  face,  and  flowing 
down  over  the  breast  with  decorative 
effect  through  which  a  portion  of  the 
white  chemise  is  seen  as  well  as  the 


174 


OLD  SPANISH  MASTERS 


rose  color  of  the  dress  which  is  thus 
enriched.  This  lace  work  is  vigor- 
ously executed  with  fine  impression- 
istic effect,  and  its  masterly  and  un- 
premeditated handling  renders  it  an 
important  feature  of  the  canvas.  Note 
how  the  full  force  of  its  technique  is 
artfully  brought  into  juxtaposition 
with  the  exquisite  delicacy  of  the 
chemise  that  softens  so  tenderly  into 
the  flesh-tones  of  the  bosom!  Then, 
again,  this  bit  of  technique  is  abso- 
lutely vital  to,  and  constitutes  the  very 
soul  of,  the  atmospheric  quality  that  is 
observable  in  the  mass  of  the  lace  of 
the  head-dress,  as  it  floats  into  the 
depth  of  the  umberous  background  on 
either  side  of  the  head,  relieving  it 
with  such  distinction  and  brilliancy; 
for  if  it  were  removed,  the  sense  of 
space  would  suffer  immediately. 

The  hair  is  that  of  a  blonde,  but  the 
large  eyes  are  dark,  partaking  of  a 
greenish  gray  cast.  There  is  delicacy 
of  modeling,  but  the  expression  is  vi- 
vacious and  spirited  rather  than  re- 
fined. Noble  and  high-strung  it  may 
be,  but  I  have  always  fancied  I  could 
see  somewhat  of  cruelty  in  its  make- 
up that  seems  in  keeping  with  the 
draggled  hair  of  the  forehead,  ending 
in  those  huge,  fierce  spit-curls,  and 
the  almost  defiant  pose  of  the  body — 
right  shoulder  forward,  left  hand 
planted  firmly  on  hip — that  gives  such 
a  feeling  of  bravado  to  the  character. 

The  canvas  is  still  as  fresh  as 
though  but  lately  finished,  a  fact  due 
to  the  simplicity  and  fewness  of  the 
colors  that  it  was  the  habit  of  the 
painter  to  employ — usually  four  or 
five,  but  often  not  more  than  three. 
For  his  portraits  he  chiefly  employed 
white,  black,  vermilion,  the  ochers, 
and  sienna,  and  he  once  painted  a 
head  with  black  and  vermilion  only, 
his  aim  being  to  show  the  effect  chi- 


aroscuro was  able  to  produce.  "In 
nature,"  he  said,  "exists  no  color,  and 
no  lines ;  nothing  but  light  and  shade." 
He  painted  with  remarkable  rapidity, 
one  or  two  sittings  often  being  suffi- 
cient to  finish  a  picture. 

This  canvas  shows  the  half-length 
of  life-size,  and  measures  two  feet 
eight  inches  by  one  foot  nine  and  a 
quarter  inches. 

I  was  told  by  a  Spanish  painter 
whose  father  had  known  Goya  per- 
sonally, that  the  great  man  was  wont 
to  declare  that  he  who  aspired  to  the 
name  of  artist  should  be  able  to  re- 
produce from  memory,  with  brush  or 
pencil,  any  scene  or  incident  in  all  its 
essential  features,  after  having  once 
beheld  it.  His  own  power  of  working 
from  memory  was  simply  phenome- 
nal, and  his  best  and  most  spirited 
productions — his  wonderful  etchings 
and  drawings  and  many  of  his  paint- 
ings, the  works,  in  fact,  on  which  his 
fame  and  claim  as  a  great  artist  rest 
— were  done  "out  of  his  head,"  as 
they  say.  The  "Belles  on  Balcony"  is 
a  pretty  instance  of  this.  True,  there 
is  something  in  the  drawing  of  the 
figures— in  their  unsubstantial  bodily 
structure— that  reveals  his  want  of 
probity  in  this  respect;  but  the  spirit 
of  the  scene,  its  pleasant  surprise  and 
freshness,  its  glamour  of  light  and 
color,  its  flutter  of  lace  and  movement, 
caught  the  artist's  eye,  and  it  is  these 
that  he  sought  to  convey  to  the  can- 
vas. There  is  rapid  execution  here — 
passionate  haste  to  give  expression  to 
the  scene  as  he  was  impressed  by  it. 
It  sprang,  as  it  were,  from  the  artist's 
palette,  too  spontaneous  to  admit  of 
reflection.  There  is  little  that  he  has 
done  that  can  rival  the  excitement 
with  which  he  despatches  the  back- 
ground, or  the  consummate  ability  and 
play  of  his  brush  in  the  rippling  sur- 


THE  BOURBON  DYNASTY 


175 


face  of  the  lace.  Goya  is  the  direct 
forerunner  of  the  nxxlem  school  of 
Impressionists,  among  whose  charac- 
teristics are  displayed  an  impatience  of 
drawing  and  an  eager  haste  to  com- 
pass the  essence  of  the  thing.  In  the 
Luxembourg  may  be  seen  a  canvas  by 
Manet  (the  recognized  head  of  the 
Impressbnists)  of  a  couple  of  belles 
at  the  balcony.  It  is  a  picture  almost 
exactly  similar  to  this  one  by  Goya, 
and  plainly  an  outcome  of  it  in  its 
treatment  and  inspiration,  though 
Goya  in  the  totality  of  his  art  has 
dealt  with  more  advanced  problems. 

The  girls  are  Scvillian,  and  the 
scene  is  a  familiar  one  in  that  gay 
town,  especially  at  Carnival  time.  .AH 
Spanish  houses  have  balconies.  The 
girls  could  n't  exist  without  them.  We 
have  in  the  background  of  this  picture 
two  male  figures,  a  soldier  and  a  citi- 
zen—lovers doubtless  of  the  fair  crea- 
tures, who  gtiarantee  their  safety ;  for 
at  Carnival  season  indignities  by  jeal- 
ous rivals  are  often  offered  to  the  fair 


onlookers.  It  may  be  wondered  that 
the  figure  standing  should  be  so  muf- 
fled up,  but  one  of  the  most  ludicrous 
customs  that  still  prevail  in  Spain  is 
that  strapping  fellows,  on  the  first 
breath  of  winter,  bundle  themselves 
up  to  their  eyes,  while  the  young  girls 
go  about  no  more  warmly  clad,  appar- 
ently, than  in  their  lace  mantillas.  And 
a  pair  of  lovers  thus  form  an  odd  con- 
trast to  each  other  which  Goya  has 
not  failed  to  hit  off  in  some  of  his 
paintings,  and  "Scenes  of  Madrid 
Life."  This  painting  was  at  Aran- 
juez  when  I  had  access  to  it,  through 
the  kind  instrumentality  of  Seiior 
Beruete  of  Madrid.  It  belongs  to  the 
Duke  of  Marchena,  son  of  the  Infant 
of  Spain,  £)on  Sebastian  de  Borbon, 
and  is  now  in  his  collection  at  Paris. 
It  is  painted  apparently  in  three  colors, 
brown,  black,  and  white.  The  figures 
are  life-size,  and  the  canvas  measures 
six  feet  five  and  a  half  inches  high, 
by  four  feet  two  inches  wide. 

T.  C. 


■\/M'  - 


'£^ 


nK  IS  DTJE  ON  THE  1.A8T  DA 
THIS  BOOK  IS^^^^^^I^OW 

AN     »NmAU  /;NE  ,°!  ..  .o  .-- 

WIUU  BE   ASSESSE       ^^^^   ^^^    JtHE  FOURTH 

p;,Y     AND     TO     SI.                                     ^^^^^^^^^^^^ 
OVERDUE.  ====^ 


^v 


*33 


MOV  30  193f; 


SEP  17  1943 


3  1944 
5    1947 


REC'D  LD 

APR     H  1959 

,^IVIar'620ft 

>WeC'D  LD 
m  1 3  1962 

FEB  1 5 19SS     5 

MAY  2  5  1999 


^'^ 


/e:  21035 


UNIVKRSITY  OP  CAUFOHNIA  LIBRARY 


•;  lA- 


W   ' 


